


Bad Reputation

by ZeraCyfr



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Timescale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Guardian Suicide, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Injury Recovery, Kinda, M/M, Minor Graphic Violence, Multi, Origin Story, Story Arc, Suicide, canon adjacent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 50,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeraCyfr/pseuds/ZeraCyfr
Summary: After a race for a methane reactor on Titan, a Hunter and a Captain save each other from a Hive Knight. In the aftermath, the Hunter is forced to reexamine his self-served bad reputation...





	1. A shot in the dark

At the moment he stepped back into the arcology for the first time since he’d been dragged out of it, Zak-9’s scars still hurt. Buried beneath new armor, itself hidden beneath a new cloak, and still burning with that emptiness where the Dark had carved away his Light. He knew it would heal in the metaphysical sense. Light would filter back in through the edges of the wounds. It wouldn’t fix the physical damage, though he wasn’t sure he wanted that fixed, but maybe it’d help ease the emptiness in his chest.

Though that had been around before the sword carved a piece out of him.

Just as he had before Zak first left for the Arcology, Cayde had tried to keep Zak back. He’d heard the rumors of what had happened in Oldtown, knew one of his last Nightstalkers was running out into the field alone to chase a last ditch lead on a reactor to keep the docks above the surface. Knew that he was the only one to notice the change in the normally-furtive Hunter. But Zak couldn’t be talked down then, and he was even more bound and determined this time, despite the apparent lack of an objective. So instead of a drawn out argument at the hangar, Cayde simply bid him good luck, receiving naught but a curt nod in reply.

The Exo found himself almost regretting not saying something to reassure the Hunter Vanguard before he left. But he had little to say worth saying at this point, to much of anyone. Right now, all he had was a question. A question, and a far-too-large cloak from the inexplicable saviour he was searching for. So he strode into the arcology, fidgeting with the rusty revolver at his side. The only weapon he was carrying, not even bothering to carry around the husk of the sniper rifle that had saved his life. Experience should have taught him exactly why not to enter Hive territory without a sword, even with his lost in the rubble of the tower. Perhaps it had. Perhaps it didn’t matter anymore.

He picked over chitinous deposits, through sickly looking growths, and down ill-beaten paths. Familiar, but distant. Past a security console he’d been trapped by a fortnight prior. Over the chitinous remains that remained unmoved from their owners’ deaths. Past a scant few footprints he didn’t remember. Fallen footprints. He knelt between a pair, and slid his finger through a pool of congealed, pearlescent, navy blue fluid. Bioarmature oil. The lifeblood in any - well most - exo’s metaphorical veins. Wiping his finger off on the burnt out husk of a long dead worm, he followed the tracks back towards their source. He already knew where they’d leave off. Gheist kept him well-appraised, even if the reports Sloane filed didn’t.

It wasn’t a terribly long trip to the site where they’d found the methane reactor. Furtive until now, Zak’s Ghost materialized near-silently next to his head. The reactor was long gone, extracted by full three-Guardian fireteam after his failure. They’d encountered no resistance on the way in or back, from what he’d heard. At least he’d done that part right. Or perhaps that was his savior. Hard to say at this point. Hard to care, too. There was a lot more of the bluish oil here. Fragments of black exoskeletal plating. Mangled machinery. The remnants of the Vanguard-issue scout rifle he’d been using in lieu of that weapon. The quiet rustling of cloth.

The hammer on the ancient revolver drew back with a loud series of ratcheting clicks as he leveled it towards the source of the noise. He didn’t have to look to do it, but he didn’t fire in the moment. Waited for the noise to stop… or to not. Thankfully, it was the former. His eye turned to see the Captain moving out of the darkness, flanked by a trio of vandals with shock pikes. All six of them stood stock still for a moment, two eyes of Light fixed on the ether fueled glow of sixteen others, and vice versa… until Gheist quickly dematerialized, and Zak slowly raised the gun to the air, away from the Fallen party. Slowly lowered the hammer, and put the gun back in its holster. In the same motion, three shock pikes fell to a less outstretched ready position, and a pair of partially-unsheathed broadswords slid back into their scabbards, arc energy crackling its last.

Each cloaked figure took one slow step toward the other. Then another. Near-identical purple cloth trailed out behind them both. A low draft fluttered the fur around their necks. Zak stopped first, the Captain pausing after but another moment. Standing well within the latter’s striking distance, the Hunter slowly pulled down his hood, his helmet’s seals hissing open, before he removes that too, dropping it roughly in the chitin. The scar across his face had not been done any favors by time, sparks flashing in the air intermittently as abused wiring attempts to manipulate hastily repaired faceplates or shorts through bad patchwork insulation. The Captain doesn’t return the gesture, nor does he take the easy opportunity to strike. So this was him, then. His chest slowly rose and fell, mouth glowing briefly from the simulated breath as the Hunter composed himself, attempted to recall the exact phrasing and enunciation. He’d gone over it dozens of times in his head, Gheist gently correcting him as best he could. His Ghost wasn’t here to translate for him now though. At his request, over anything else.

The simulated exhale carried with it a far too heavy silence. He’d have to be the one to break it.

「... Why didn’t you let me die?」

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zak-9 is not meant to be a stand-in for the "Player Character" guardian, though his role overlaps and replaces theirs in some cases (moreso later on owing to certain events within the shared canon I write in). The quest on Titan "Enemy of my Enemy" is one of them. Also as might be clear by now, the quest didn't exactly go as it did in canon.
> 
> EDIT [3/24/2019] - The timeline of this story is also somewhat different from the "canon" Destiny timeline. I won't go into the full details, but the short version is pretty much every in-game event has been stretched to a longer time scale, and while that wasn't my idea (again, I'm writing this in a "version" of the universe I didn't start) it does admittedly make the scale of some things (learning a new language, learning to manipulate a complex simulation machine, etc etc) feel better, so I'm happy to change it. I'd love to give full context here, but... I can't. So instead I hope it suffices to clarify on the immediate surroundings of this story - the Red War took place over two years, rather than a number of weeks or months, and the events of Curse of Osiris occurred a full year later (and similarly over a longer period of time). Warmind will also take place roughly a year after Curse of Osiris concludes, with Forsaken following roughly a year after that.
> 
> EDIT II [6/7/2019] - I keep forgetting to tack on credits for guardians that aren't mine that I'm writing here. There's a few that get idly mentioned that I'm not gonna go into explicit detail for now, but I'm gonna start keeping a list.  
>  \- Avin Xurhil - [HeraldicMage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraldicMage/pseuds/HeraldicMage)


	2. Dance with the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a Captain who's been alive longer than the Hunter spent dead tries to figure out why he would want to go back to being so.

As Light flowed back into his metallic bones, the simulated, frantic inhale lit Zak-9’s face up like a christmas tree. His optic focused on Gheist’s shell, the orbiting points of a stolen design tracing out a pattern of worry unfamiliar to any who didn’t know him… or a certain exiled Vanguard member’s deathlifelong companion. The Captain stood just behind him, flicking oil off of the blade he’d just pulled out of his chest. He spoke. Zak only caught some of the words. A prepared translation does not a fluent speaker make.

[ / … “Because it would serve no purpose, as you can see. And it would be an ill mark on me to not honor a debt.” / ]

The Exo’s ventilation remained heavy, heat exchanges working overtime to clear out the abundance of thermal overflow from his resurrection. Gheist had been worried he wouldn’t come back without being forced back… again. Ever since Oldtown.

A thought that was interrupted by the Captain speaking again, clicks and rasps echoing through his mask.

“... ‘m gonna need you to keep translating, buddy.”  
[ / Of… of course. / ]

There’s a heavily pregnant pause in the air as the Ghost looks between the two, before he sighs and finally follows through.

[ / “Why did you not kill me?” It’s… it translates differently in Eliksni syntax, I’m sorry. I’d never heard it asked before. / ]

He was apologizing for his translation aid. Of all things… Zak gently nodded, attempting to find the words to tell him not to apologize… but instead he can only find his attention sliding back to the Captain.

“... It seemed like the wrong thing to do, letting you die after you’d let me live.”

Gheist’s translation seemed far more concise… but then again he still didn’t know the language more than a few passing phrases picked up between Gheist and Variks. The Captain stared down at him, expression unreadable, for a few moments that felt like eons. He could feel the machinery in his chest slowly calming down, the last of the major thermal exchange wrapping itself up as he rested a forearm on his knee. When he finally does answer, it’s all Gheist can do not to stare at the Fallen, an expression Zak recognizes as abject incredulity plastered all over his shell.

“... Well?”  
[ / “We are warriors - Creatures of action, of honor, Guardian. Lies do not become us. Why did you step before the Knight’s blade? Your weapon was not empty. So... why?” / ]

Now it was all Zak could do to pull his eye off Gheist, but once he managed it, he felt his gaze drawn to Mithrax, like the victim of a Blight being dragged into its center. Inexorable. Inevitable. Irresistible.

“Because… because it was the right thing-”  
[ / Zak, don’t- / ]

Both of them were cut off by the arc lancing off the broadsword beneath Zak’s chin, millimetres from his bare plating. He could feel it lancing into his systems, minor shorts pushed back by the Light as his ventilation slowed to a halt. And then the Captain spoke.

“... Why… does never-die death seek?”

_‘His accent’s much smoother than Variks’ is’_

He’d shake the thought out of his head if he’d the room for it. Instead, he slowly exhales, the humid air cycling through his systems inciting further activity from the arcs on the blade. He could smell the ozone in the air. And could hear his sensors screaming at him to get the hell away from the source of ozone. He ignored the lot of it for the moment, eye fixed on four.

“... What better cause did I have left to live for?”

Four eyes slowly turned from Zak to his Ghost, the awaited translation slow, deliberate, and above all reluctant. The sword slowly drew away from him again, and was returned once again to its sheath as, at some signal Zak either didn’t see or recognize, the Captain’s accompanying guard slinked off into the shadows, leaving them alone.

When he spoke, a short, brief phrase, Zak could recognize the first person, inclined differently, and a word that he’d not heard before. He also recognized the inward turned palm gesture. His slow reply, “... Mithrax?”, was met with a brief nod. It couldn’t be described as curt, but it seemed about as quick as one that might. Exhaling again, Zak glanced at Gheist, who didn’t need to be asked twice what to do, the appropriate words echoing lightly in his mind through their link as the Exo extended his hand.

「... My name is Zak-9」

There was another long pause, Zak’s arm steady, even if his breathing wasn’t, before Mithrax slowly reached out and took the offered hand in one, another moving to brace his wrist against the Exo’s. Bemused, Zak returned that gesture too, as Mithrax spoke again.

[ / “What indeed, Zak-9? Stand.” I… don’t know what he’s- / ]

Cutting off his Ghost with nothing but his own wordless rise, Zak let go of Mithrax as the Captain stepped back, drawing his broadswords again. Tensing up as Gheist abruptly shimmered out of phase, Zak seemed about ready to reach for his gun, but his readiness was quickly repurposed as one of the blades was tossed in his direction. As he instinctively gripped the handle, both blades crackled to life, and Mithrax held his blade out, resting one hand in a fist atop the one on the hilt. Slowly, confused, returning the gesture, Zak hefted the Fallen blade, barely managing a parry as the Captain closed the brief gap between them.

The duel was frantic, arc flashing vibrantly through the room as the blades met time and time again. Mithrax was fast, faster than Zak himself, and his swings carried far more weight. The Exo’s saving grace was not his speed, a thought that surprised even him, but his agility, sliding around swings where he couldn’t bring the heavy blade designed for larger hands to bear in time, and deflecting off the edge where he could, creating his opportunities out of these brief windows where Mithrax’s heavier swings forced follow through on his part.

The duel was brutal, Zak’s ersatz musculature screaming alert after alert at him after one too many raw blocks where Mithrax brought his full strength to bare, and after a few nasty grazes to systems noncritical and otherwise. The Captain took his own fair share, Zak’s few openings capitalized on with light jabs and strokes that, while not dealing damage that would last, would certainly hinder his opponent. Neither could afford to hold back - but nor could either quite best the other, a dance to the death in seven acts, of which several were subdivided as their contest splintered the cadence of clashes into different tempos.

The duel was over, it felt, far too quickly, Zak finally missing one crucial parry as the hydraulics in his arm gave out, and his blade didn’t rise fast enough. He didn’t really feel the blade slide under his chestplates. He did feel the rush of air through his cooling systems as Gheist surged Light through him for the second time in an hour. Mithrax had not retrieved his sword from the Exo’s hand, but remained nearby, cleaning his own and checking his wounds. Nothing life threatening, though Zak did note, with some satisfaction, that there would be some new scars in the Fallen’s exoskeleton after this. Turning the handle back, Zak offered it wordlessly, and it was taken in due course, the Captain sheathing his blades and settling against the column opposite the one Zak had been cornered against. Gheist’s return was slow, nervous. And it took Zak a few moments to imagine why that could possibly be, until he realized what was coursing through him.

Elation.

As Mithrax spoke again, Gheist didn’t wait to start translating, though only through their bond now. 

[ / “It seems like you live for same things as the Eliksni, Lightbearer. Conflict, conquest… survival. Why abandon that for an enemy?” / ]

For the hours it felt like he sat on that question, Zak realized, he didn’t know how to answer it. As he stepped out of the arcology, Gheist wordlessly prepared his jumpship, Zak’s mind racing as he thought back to the Captain’s parting question. There’d been no words spoken past that. He wasn’t sure there needed to be, and Mithrax seemed plenty willing to let him think on it.

It wasn’t until days later, as he contemplated the ornate armor the emperor had granted him in reward for his “service,” remembering how it had felt when the Light finally flowed freely through him once again, that Zak realized he might finally have an answer.

Mithrax was waiting for him the next time he set foot into the arcology. He wasn’t sure how he knew what to look for, but he didn’t overmuch care. Nestled among the half-destroyed support structures within the walls, not far from the blown out hole the Vanguard used to access the hive-riddled territory, they perched, sitting across from each other, Mithrax sharpening his blades, and Zak slowly rolling a combat knife over his fingers, flicking the blade this way and that, and occasionally letting it arc into the air, only to land snugly between two or three of his fingers and start spinning again. Gheist hadn’t given him a translation this time, but then, Gheist didn’t know what he was going to say. Even to him, his Guardian was sometimes unreadable. A fatal flaw, he recognized, and one that would have to be rectified and quickly. But he didn’t have time to formulate how, even in the long minutes it took Zak to finally break the bladed silence.

“I wanted to feel something other than regret… Needed to fill the Void with something more corporeal. To atone for things that can’t be forgiven.”

When Gheist finally, after his shocked silence, translated for the Captain, Mithrax looked up from his blades, staring at Zak for a few moments before he started shaking, ragged, ratcheting hissing echoing from his frame.

Laughter, Zak realized.

「If that was all you were after, Hunter, you should’ve shot him in the head.」

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to put this on the end of the last chapter, but this is ideally gonna be a weekly update thing. I'm working on a backlog as a just in case, but I'm trying to keep myself writing consistently, just to keep in practice/get into the habit of it. So, ideally this'll be a steady thing. Of course now that I've put it in writing... Still, I'm enjoying writing it. So. It's got a bit of life in it yet regardless. Also this is technically eight minutes short of "weekly" but...


	3. Helmets Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crucible's handler confronts a discrepancy as Zak is forced into a proverbial corner.

“The Hunter is on his way, Lord Shaxx.”  
“Duly noted, Arcite. Run the tape again.”

The hulking handler of the Crucible leaned on his console, watching intently as the clip played out. The Hunters were at it again, prospective and ex-Iron Lords clashing as they had time after time in the past. Matches that remained popular, in spite of their infuriating tendencies to end in ties, and consequently, matches he’d continued to field. And, in recent weeks, matches he’d watched more and more closely, as with all of the Nightstalker’s matches. He’d heard rumbles of Oldtown before most. But most thought it was just a rumor. Those two had been inseparable. One of them refused to set foot in the Crucible without the other on principle if nothing else. As with all things in his Crucible, however, Shaxx knew the truth of the matter.

At least, he thought he did.

He watched again as Zak-9 raised his weapon far too late to stop the burning Light of his opponent tear through him, ending the match in an instant. The struggle was brief, impotent. Completely unlike their usual prolonged, bitter, brutal back-and-forths, each trying to demonstrate their skill to the other. Sharp edges honing themselves off of each clash. But now…

It had been like this ever since he first heard the murmurings. The Nightstalker's movements had been less purposeful, and while he was as quick on his feet as ever, he wasn’t quite as swift to react. And even when he was ready for an attack, it seemed… off. He didn’t have the heart in him for this anymore. Considering the rumors, it was the last thing Shaxx had expected, and yet, it was so. Despite seeing full well with his own two eyes what had happened, Shaxx couldn’t say he understood what was really going on.

As he heard heavy footsteps behind himself, Shaxx could only recall the almost-resignation with which the Nightstalker had reacted to Artifex-4’s onslaught.

Turning to face the entering Hunter, Shaxx planted his hands firmly on his waist, imposing as ever, a gesture Zak had always seemed to respect. As it was, however, his posture was somewhat slack, stance sloppy. He seemed about as present here as he had in the Crucible, staring down the barrel of a Golden Gun. Sighing, Shaxx considered asking the Hunter to remove his helmet, but there was some part of both of them who knew that request was bound to get some sort of dry “you first” over acquiescing.

“You wanted to see me, Lord Shaxx?”

“Indeed. I’ve heard some disquieting rumors as of late concerning your performance in the Crucible. In spite of your… frankly distasteful ability to duel your rival to a dead draw,” he begrudgingly admits, “you make for riveting combat, it seems. So… why is it that in the last three months I’ve watched you fall as far as you have?” The Exo took his sweet time answering, his head barely falling, the only indicator he’d really registered the question. Eventually, the Hunter took it upon himself to remove his helmet, the seals hissing as Shaxx breathed a sigh of relief for not having to ask. Moments before he felt just a twinge of regret for wanting to see the Hunter’s face. The Hive scarring was still evident in his plating, the Light unable to fix the wound as-is, and leaving it jagged and raw. As raw as a robot’s innards can be, at least.The leather eyepatch strung across his face hid the worst of the damage to the optic itself, but the area around it certainly didn’t seem spared the same damaged by any appreciable margin, by the look of it. Meeting the Hunter’s gaze behind his visor, Shaxx could see the answer to his question hidden in the Hunter’s sole remaining eye.

“... You’ve seen the tapes.” Shaxx nodded, not faltering. “Of course I’ve seen the tapes... You used one of my arenas, after all, if I’d missed it, I could no longer call myself the Crucible’s handler, could I?”

_”This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”_

The haunting words, and the gunshot that followed, echoed in Shaxx’s mind for a moment, before he continued, “So what is it then? What do you think all of this will accomplish?” He moved a few steps closer, the Hunter not flinching as his gaze followed the Titan’s approach wearily. “You’ve lost all of your fear… and at the same time your will to fight. So why did you bring it to bear then? There? On him?”

There’s an almost harsh snort from the synthetic. Not the reaction he’d expected, Shaxx would confess.

“... Why does an injured animal lash out?” Shaxx felt he knew the answer, but Zak continued before he could present it; “Because they don’t know what other options they’ve got left.”

The sheer infallibility of Zak’s tone baffled Shaxx, for all that he sound defeated and tired, he sounded so sure of himself. Painfully so. But once again, not the sort of assuredness that Shaxx had feared. The Hunter, of all things to be sure of, was completely steadfast in his own failings.

“.... I know to some I may seem simple, Hunter, but I sincerely hope you don’t think so of me.”

He seemed to have caught him off guard, the Exo actually looking stumped for a moment. “... Of course not.” Crossing his arms, Shaxx took another step closer, the Hunter still holding his ground, though there was a telltale lean to him now. “So, Hunter… why do you keep trying to fool the both of us into believing something you’re not?”

Another off-guard blink. The Hunter had to step back this time, despite Shaxx staying precisely where he was. “I don’t… know what you mean, Lord Shaxx.”

“You’re a Hunter, are you not?” Shaxx could see that Zak felt his gaze through his helmet as he nodded, apparently stunned into silence. Good. Words weren’t the Hunter’s friend at the moment. “And you’re one of the only Nightstalkers still in the field, correct? One of our best and brightest?” Another nod, though one less confident in his own abilities. But Shaxx, by now, knew better. He was one of the few Hunters who would never admit to his skill. Only demonstrate it as was called for. “You know you’ve made a grievous mistake, correct?” Another, sheepish, but more immediate nod, his eye dropping to the console nearby. “So tell me, Hunter… what will you do to correct it?”

It took the Hunter a while to answer, but when he finally did… “With all due respect, Lord Shaxx, I don’t think this is the sort of thing I can correct.” … It was near enough opposite what Shaxx had been hoping to hear. Sighing, the Titan shook his head, dropping his hands back to his hips and stepping back from the Hunter. “I don’t believe you, Hunter. That will be all.” As Zak turned to leave, however, he called out, “I will be watching you _very closely,_ Hunter. I may have been wrong about what I saw… but that doesn’t mean you can expect me to ignore it.” A brief, delayed nod, and he was gone, disappearing around the corner. Shaking his head again, Shaxx moved back to his console, flipping through a few files and calling up a tape from Oldtown. Ran through the tapes for the umpteenth time that week. Slowly combed through footage of the pair’s arrival, of a conversation between guardians and a nervous Ghost. Could barely hear the words, more the tone. Watched the Hunter don his helmet.

Shaxx paused the playback on the moment that Zak-9 leveled Bad News at Avin Xurihl’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is meant to be a weekly series... but I'm keeping a backlog, like I mentioned. And while I wanna keep a schedule (and ideally I will), I also didn't want to build up... too much of a backlog. And I've passed the breakpoint I set for myself, so here's an early chapter.


	4. Eia.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linguistics lessons, or on the meanings of relationships.

「... Blade make your?」  
“No, no...「Draw your blade.」Is like this.”  
「Draw your blade...」

Once again, Zak found himself deep inside the Arcology, drawing small patterns in the chitinous Hive material nearby with his combat knife and mulling over a language he could only just barely begin to understand. His tutor stood opposite, leaning on a support structure and checking his weapons for signs of disrepair. It wasn’t hard to guess why, from the Hive remnants littering the floor, desiccated Worms and husks lying about, still smoking in some cases. As he worked through the words in his head, trying to commit them to memory, he occupied his hands with slowly ruining the Hive’s very carefully cultured decor. It was harder than he’d like, muddling through the various words and phrases, but had a patient teacher, and a good interpreter. Finishing with defiling a rune, and watching the light fade from the old etchings, Zak eventually murmured, “The Traveler used to favor the Eliksni, right…? Why’d it just… run when the Darkness showed up? It stayed here with us… gave us the Ghosts… Why didn’t it help you guys?”

Gheist was… hesitant, to say the least, to translate, but when he did, after only a brief pause, Mithrax twisted one of his hands in a gesture Zak had come to know as the rough equivalent of a shrug, before replying.

[ / “Why did the Great Machine pick us to begin with? What of the races before us? None could speak to it, know it. It was an inscrutable benefactor… as it has been with you, has it not?” … He’s not entirely wrong. / ]

Nodding in agreement, Zak let out a brief sigh. He remembered the Speaker. The one person who’d spoken for the Traveler, as far as he knew. The one person who seemed to know the unknowable… another of the Red War’s many casualties.

「... Had one… talked to Machine. Gone. Cabal-dead.」

Gheist visibly winced at the choppy sentence, but Mithrax seemed, if also amused, somewhat impressed by the improvement.

「You almost got all of those words right… If your people had even one who could speak to the Great Machine, you had a better understanding than we did.」

Gheist’s translation took extra time for the syntax of it all, but as he listened to Mithrax’s words, Zak sighed, shaking his head a bit and murmuring, “I just wish we knew more about why it came back to life now…” His ghost looked about ready to reply, but there was a sound from down the hall that interrupted their thoughts, two reaching for their weapons as the third disappeared.

After the gunfire died down, Zak kicked one of the corpses, flipping it over and putting a round through its skull, just to be sure, before turning to Mithrax. 「Thrall?」The Captain nodded once. He really was learning. “Learn fast… soon speak fluently.” Though Mithrax was learning much faster. 「Of you same-say.」There was a pause as they exchanged a look, before both of them burst out laughing.

「Your accent is terrible-」”Your accent is terrible-”

Another pause, before both stifled further laughter, focusing on crushing the worms so they could move on to someplace less… hostile. At the edge of the arcology, they found a hole in the superstructure to rest in, propping themselves up on beams across from one another. Glancing out of a hole in the wall, out onto the methane sea overlooking the rigs the Vanguard had made their base of operations for Titan, Zak sighed as he ran a cloth along the barrel of his gun, cleaning away some of the Hive gore. “You picked a spot with a good view, at least.” The Captain nodded once. Zak could swear he could see smiling… but behind that breathing mask it was hard to see much of anything. “Eia. View of Guardian-base. Watch-keep for Hunter-fool.” Ah yes, his nickname. Well-earned, still embarrassing. “I can’t help but feel I’m not the only one you spy on from here.” A head-tilt. Something that had no real human equivalent, but seemed to indicate a concession. 「Perhaps... 」Chuckling softly, Zak leans back on his makeshift seat. It was evasive, but by now both of them knew their friendship was… unlikely at best. The product of honor and curiosity. And perhaps something else.

「... You keep coming back here, Hunter… To the place where you lost so much. Just to meet with me. Once again I find myself questioning your actions.」

Ah, yes. The armor piercing question. Zak paused, thinking over his answer. Mithrax had already turned away by the time he looked up from the handcannon, apparently expecting him to have to come back with the answer.

「... Friend. Enemy once, now not. Wrong?」

Mithrax had his turn to pause, now. Zak couldn’t blame him. He made friends easier than most. And he had no concept, really, of how the Falle-the Eliksni treated their friendships.Perhaps they could never be truly friends, only honor-bound to avoid killing the other, with the history of their races. But they talked… if not freely, more or less openly about what they could discuss. They both had the sense not to ask each other about their leaders… Zak had no intentions of betraying the Kell of Dusk regardless, and doubtless whatever intel Mithrax could get from him could be better-gleaned from other places… At least, as far as the Exo knew. Eventually, Mithrax looked up from his blade, sheathing it as it was cleared of the last of the chitinous husk.

“... Not-enemy. Friend… Perhaps-friend. Honor-ally, yes?”

Smiling somewhat behind his helmet, the Hunter nodded. He could live with that.

“Eia.” A brief pause. "... that's right, right? Eia?"  
He could almost see a smirk behind that rebreather. “Eia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter one, but being honest the odds of another chapter cropping up mid-week are... high.


	5. Trial By Arc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After avoiding it for so long, Zak-9's trouble at the tower catches up with him.

“Hunter!”

Zak-9 nearly jumped out of his chassis as Shaxx called to him from the Crucible HQ. He’d hoped he could get to the landing pad scot free after dropping the old hand cannon off with Banshee for some finer tuning than he could manage… but he’d hoped poorly, it seemed. He considered, more than briefly, asking Gheist to just transmat him to the ship so he could jump away… but in the end he simply sighed and turned back to Shaxx, following his imperious wave over to the booth.

He was earnestly shocked to find Cayde-6 waiting there too, pouring over some tapes.

“Oh hey, you finally snagged ‘im. I owe Banshee some glimmer.”

_’Judas…’_

The Hunter left his helmet on this time, not eager to display his emotions as freely as he had last time. He had no doubt Shaxx would read him like Shakespeare anyways, but…

“So, Shaxx tells me you’ve been having trouble in the ring, kiddo. You goin’ soft? Between that and the fact that you keep duckin’ off to Titan I’m startin’ to get worried.”

Right. The concern. He’d at least come back this time, hadn’t he? Sighing, Zak reconsidered asking Gheist to whisk him away, but the thought was interrupted, as any thought would be, by Shaxx’s boisterous contributions to the conversation.

“I don’t understand it, Hunter. You don’t draw on your Light… I’ve watched you throw away a fight that was yours to win because you wouldn’t draw on your Light. I’ve seen you do incredible things with it… and you refuse to make use of it now. Why?”

So the metrics alone weren’t enough. In spite of his efforts (and successes) in getting back into peak form. He looked between them behind his helmet, Cayde hiding enough concern for both of them. It wasn’t something he could deflect, not this time. So he sighed, and, in defiance of every one of his instincts, began to explain.

“... Did you see what I did to his side, Shaxx?” The confused silence was all the answer he needed. “A Nightstalker’s arrow… is a dangerous thing. It was something fully under my control for such a very long time.. Something I could do without a thought, with a clear head amidst the chaos. Crucible was a great tool to hone it… but since then? Since _that tape?_ It’s been… It leaves scars. Bad scars. I can’t pull it to bear against other Guardians for fear of crippling them fore-”

“Hunter.” He’d never heard Shaxx speak so quietly, and it shocked him. He could see Cayde fighting not to interject, fidgeting with his belt. “Why do you take such great efforts to hide all this? You need _help_... You can’t pretend otherwise.”

“He’s right.” And there was Cayde losing that fight. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m afraid to let you go back out into the wild. Each time that jumpship shows up, I have to stop myself from telling Holiday to ground it.” The Hunter Vanguard starts to throw his hands up into the air, before they find his belt again before rising even half way. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing in the Arcology… but whatever it is, if that’s what you’re going to for help… it’s not enough.”

Zak sank into thought. He didn’t respond to either of them for what felt like years, the silent impasse dragging on, dragging the attention of others over, if only briefly. Before too long, however, he murmured, “No… no it’s not…「Honor-ally, otherhand… brings comfort.」”

Cayde and Shaxx exchanged a glance at the butchered Fallen speech, the former sighing and pinching the bridge of his metaphorical nose. “... And now he’s speaking bug. Kiddo, you… I’m gonna go see Amanda. I can’t not at this point.”

“No.”

Shaxx still sounded alarmingly quiet, as he stepped forward. “Arcite… get me my gun. And prepare the Midtown arena.”

Zak had always heard what Shaxx was like in the Crucible. Heard of the unstoppable force being the immovable object. Heard tell that only one incredible Warlock had ever defeated him. None of this prepared him even in the slightest for what awaited him in Oldtown. The pistol Arcite gave him was next to useless, the Hunter barely able to fire between his evasive efforts. He could occasionally take ground here or there, but he was forced to cede so much that he could make no headway.

And that was _before_ Shaxx called forth the Havoc.

“Get up, Hunter! You’re not done yet. _FIGHT BACK!”_

The Exo gasped for air as Gheist revived him. He could feel Shaxx bearing down on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand and fight. He disappeared into thin air, attempted to dodge onto the rooftops, but still Shaxx tracked him like a hawk, and slammed him into a wall, grasping his neck as Arc overloaded his systems, threatening to put Gheist right back to work.

“You never used to fear your opponents, Hunter, but worse still, you never feared the Void. You were one of the lucky few to understand it, before anyone else could even try and teach you. So why. Do. You. _Fear it. **NOW?!”**_

Zak couldn’t answer the question. Both because his voicebox had been crushed and shorted out, and because he didn’t know how to. Shaxx hurled him across the road. He gasped some distance away as Gheist went back to work. His options were narrowing. Shaxx wouldn’t call this match. Shaxx would just keep advancing.

Was he actually going to send him back to the Light?

He heard the thunderous, thunder-clad footsteps before he saw Shaxx round the corner again. He was going to die again. Another trip beyond. Another failure. Defeat. He’d have to be saved from this too. Or he’d die. Just like the Arcology… Mithrax would’ve carried him out for nothing.

_’What would he say if he could see you now…?’_

The fear slowly melted away as time slowed to a crawl. His hands rose, grasped the invisible haft of a weapon. Felt the tension as the bowstring formed around his fingers. He had to stop throwing himself in front of others. He had to listen to Mithrax’s advice.

He had to shoot him in the head.

He heard Shaxx’s victorious laughter as the arrow tore through his midsection, moments before he slammed into Zak anyways, and drove him into the wall, both collapsing after a pair of synchronized gunshots.

When Gheist revived him, Shaxx was standing over him already, holding out his hand. He could almost hear the smile on his face. “Now was that so hard, Hunter?” He looked up at the Titan’s hand, before he took it, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet, and handing him back the pistol he’d been lent. The Titan was unscarred. The center he needed had balanced itself atop the panic of the moment. The fear eked out of his bones as the void-burn danced out of his fingers.

“... Eia. I guess not.”

Cayde was waiting for them when they returned to the Tower, along with a small crowd of spectators. Seemed they’d had spectators. Even with his technical loss, Zak couldn’t find himself embarrassed. In an odd way… he almost felt encouraged. It didn’t stop him from jumping out of his exoskeleton again as Cayde clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

“Work it out, kiddo?”

Zak had to think on it again for a few moments, but he nodded once, smiling wryly in spite of himself. “Good. I’ll hold off on talking to Holiday for a bit longer…. Just do me a solid and maybe take it easy on the Arcology trips… people’re gonna start talkin’, and I can’t have one of my Nightstalkers get a reputation for consorting with the enemy.” Cayde seemed somewhat surprised when Zak burst out laughing. “... I don’t think I can reasonably call him an enemy at this point, Cayde.” Cayde stared at him, somewhat dumbfounded. Raised a finger, as if to speak, then lowered it, an impossibly disconcerted look painting those faceplates.

“... Y’know, on second thought, I don’t wanna know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't get out a mid-week chapter this week, I'm just having to draw from my archive. It was a bit of a rough one. Things are on the upswing though, and I got that drabble about my little Eliksni up there. Fun fact... the rifle he uses is Origin Story.
> 
> "Your inciting incident is their tragic ending."


	6. Part of the Crew?

It’d take more than one success to break the mental block in his head, of course. But steps in the right direction were good. He didn’t stop going to the Arcology. But before too long, Mithrax was finding him, not just the other way ‘round. The Arcology was where they’d meet if they hadn’t in a while… but now even out on assignment on other worlds, he might chance upon the Captain, spar for a while. Trade some words. Their meetings became less and less formal. Less strained. Zak even managed to surprise Mithrax once, tapping his shoulder from behind, _without_ getting a broadsword through the chest. It didn’t stop Mithrax from flipping him and pinning him to the ground.

He wasn’t sure how exactly he felt about that one.

Nor was he entirely sure how he felt about how they kept accidentally roping each other into their missions. In all his lives, Zak never thought he’d fight alongside a Fallen once… not only had he fought with Mithrax against the hive more times than he cared to count, now, he’d had the Eliksni along for more than a few of his missions _outside_ the Arcology, along with tagging along with a small team the Captain led for a few of _his_ missions. And it was _fun._ There was always a bit of unease, at first, while he got used to his new… “fireteam” members, but between Mithrax keeping the peace, and his ever-improving Eliksni, Zak found himself coming to get along with them as time went by. He traded stories and bits and bobs of tech for various odds and ends, and stories in kind. It never lasted too long - there was always some Hive incursion to clear out, or a Cabal patrol interrupting their own recon - but it was nice to see how the world worked under Mithrax’s command. He was stern, a bit strict… but in the same way Shaxx could be. Only ever in the spirit of improvement.

Unfortunately, his time with the group was always limited. One way or another, he’d have to get back to his own thing. Or some other Guardians would happen along. Or some other _Fallen._ He’d learned, over the course of his possibly-friendship with Mithrax that his crew was… different. They reported to the same Kell as the rest of Dusk. But they also did things their own way. They avoided fighting when they could. They certainly weren’t squeamish about it. But it was hardly their MO to pillage and plunder recklessly. They took what they needed, and then they moved on. He admired that about them. Not that he was sure this was exclusive to Mithrax’s crew… but there were certainly other crews they avoided run-ins with at almost any cost. He still didn’t understand why. He wasn’t sure he wanted to either.

Finding himself sitting on a ridge, slowly patching some Vex mechanisms into DARCI’s damaged hardware, he glanced back at Mithrax, who was watching a rendezvous point of some sort with a wire rifle.

「So who wait now on?」  
「”Who are you waiting on now?” An arms dealer. Cabal stealing from your City. And from Eliksni handoffs. He’s got quite a bounty on his head.」

Zak blinked, looking up from his rifle again and glanced down at the rendezvous point. “... Brachus Ma’sor?” While Mithrax didn’t look back, he could see the Captain tense up a little. 「... Yes, that one.」 Chuckling softly, Zak affixed the last of the machinery necessary to get the scope functioning again in theory, and moved over to sit next to Mithrax, shouldering DARCI and looking through her new scope, delighted to find it working, even if he knew the systems inside the rifle proper were still all but scrap metal. “City’s got a bounty on his head too. Know who he’s meeting with?” A shrug. One of the mannerisms he’d accidentally taught the Captain. “Matter-not. Bounty on Brachus only.” Chuckling again, Zak idly nudged Mithrax’s side as he lowered his rifle. “Tell you what, think you could give me thirty seconds before you fire? If I can get an ID, I might be able to track down some other miscreants we’re both after…” He realized a bit late he’d tripped up. Mithrax generally didn’t take kindly to being interrupted while he was concentrating. Especially not with sudden physical contact. But there was no indignant grunt this time, no shove back against him to push him away. Instead, he simply… replied.

「Fifteen seconds. Can’t risk more than that.」

Chuckling a little, he doesn’t push his luck, shouldering the rifle and watching the same area as Mithrax… until a Marauder dropped out of stealth camo. A rather heavily armored Marauder. 「.... Old armor… House Kings, yes?」 Mithrax confirmed his suspicions with a silent nod. The armor had been repainted, Dusk colors adorning it, but… it was armor in an old style. Modified. Peculiar. “... Let them get away. I’m going to track ‘em if I’m able. Unless you know this one.” A negative headshake. 「If this one works for any crew I’ve met, they are newly inducted.」 A brief pause. Then, 「They bear a unique insignia I have yet to see as well. Perhaps some sect of the techpriests that survived...」 Zak listened carefully, continuing to watch the Eliksni from his perch. He seemed… nervous. But he composed himself quickly enough as a small troop of Cabal moved out of some cover. Io was a good place to meet for this… plenty of cover if things went south. And plenty of places to hide… much like this ridge. Putting DARCI down, Zak pulled a pulse rifle from his back instead. It wasn’t a sniper rifle, but he had a fondness for Hakke’s higher calibre models. With the right scope, they could do about the same job. 「I take guards, you, Brachus?」 Another nod. Mithrax was in the zone now. Zak exhaled slowly and looked down his own scope, lining up the shot. Mithrax waited for the handoff, waited for the Eliksni to start moving away. Zak heard the wire rifle buzz to life next to him. He didn’t need a countdown.

As Mithrax draped the wire rifle over his back, Zak was already sliding down the hillside. The Marauder had broken for cover when the shooting started. Sensible. Only pausing to yank a piece of the Brachus’ armor off for a confirmation trophy, making sure to get his insignia, he shimmered out of view, followed the fleeing Eliksni to cover. He was making sure all the engrams were in place, and frantically reporting back in to… an Archon priest. Mithrax had been right. This’d be quite the report to write up, he hadn’t heard much of any talk of techpriests within the House of Dusk. Archon’s name… he needed to catch the name. He was glad he’d been staying on top of his learning.

_’Karaskis… pleasant sounding fellow.’_

When the Eliksni scurried off, Zak stayed, watching him get to a safer position, and transmat up to a skiff that just barely passed into range, still in active camo. No markings to be seen, unfortunately. He started back to tell Mithrax, but halfway there, he remembered how quickly the Captain tended to clear out.

「You forgot your gun.」

Zak actually screamed as he felt the Captain’s hand on his shoulder. By the time he’d recovered enough to take DARCI from the Eliksni, Mithrax was laughing harder than the Exo had ever seen him do.

He wasn’t sure whether or not he was just as amused or offended at this point.


	7. The Bearer...

_’He’d like this view, I think.’_

Deep in the mountainous forests, in the range surrounding the City, Zak was putting the finishing touches on DARCI, Banshee having lent his expertise on rectifying the most egregious breaks in the rifle’s mechanisms. Sitting on the doorstep of a well-covered hide, mounted a story or two off the ground in a series of close-together trees, Zak fiddled with the tubing attachment. Even as he worked, however, his mind had wandered back to Mithrax, his gaze slipping up to the Traveler silhouetting the sun more and more, though his hands seemed to move just fine without his focus. Finishing his work, the white fluid within the tubes started to flow. It wasn’t radiolaria, but between the pilfered Vexs parts built into the construction and the new camo paint on the chassis, she certainly looked like she had mind fluid going through her veins. The composition was a similarly conductive fluid, bereft of the biological consciousness within. With that in mind, it made a perfect home for _her_ consciousness to settle into. Hefting the rifle to his shoulder, Zak flipped the last switch on the rifle, only for the reticule to remain dark. Frowning, he checks the rifle over again, only to find there’s a conductive linkage missing. He had a few spare stowed away somewhere, he was sure…

Pulling himself up and back into the hide, he made sure to place DARCI carefully up against the tree trunk within, before he moved over to a small wall of bins, pulling them out one by one and checking the junk within for what he was looking for. On the third bin, he paused, his ventilation freezing up. He’d forgotten this was where he’d left it.

Lifting Bad News gingerly from the junk bin, he turned the weapon over in his hands, a phantom pain in his chest making it hard to lift his arm. It still had seven rounds in the chamber. He could feel their weight as he briefly gripped the handle, the feeling sending a jolt up his spine.

_’This is what you wanted, isn’t it?_

He could feel the weapon pitching back in his hand as the Warlock crumpled to the ground. The feeling seemed far away, his boots scraping in the dirt as a panicked Ghost quickly set to work on his guardian. It was the only way. He had to protect him. Had to show him the danger… had to… had to…

_How would this protect him?_

The revolver fell from Zak’s slack hands as the memories washed over him, the scarring across the left of his face burning like the Knight’s sword was drawing across it again. Replaced immediately, if not enough, by the empty cold of Lightless agony. He pushed the memories back, leaning on the shelving for support. The rattling sound hid the soft rush of Void energy from outside. Couldn’t hide the sound of boots touching down on the wooden planks of his doorstep, however. Forced out of his recollections, Zak reached for the older, less tainted revolver at his hip.

Only to freeze cold as he saw who was in the doorway.

“... Why would you come here, Avin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is an extra short one (and that I missed the mark by a day) - it's been a very long week, and I'm still working off my backlog while life does... shit. Anyrate. Gonna try and get back into penning this down properly soon, try and get a few extra chapters between once I've got my backlog built back up. Trust.


	8. Ill-Forgotten Pains

The Hunter was distracted. Moreso than usual. Mithrax had located him skulking around the bones of Io, taking potshots at Taken. The Risen’s rifle was still on the fritz, it seemed - he was making repairs between each shot. But this was not what distracted him. Mithrax moved closer to the Exo, settling in behind the ridge they were perched on. Rested a hand on his shoulder gently. There was no leaping scream this time. Something of a shame, but better, he thinks, in this circumstance.

「... What draws your mind, Hunter?」

He watched the Guardian try to look down the scope of his weapon again, before sighing and letting it fall, his ventilation resuming in short order. Even robotics needed the air… cooling purposes, Mithrax presumed. And still the synthetics held their breath to shoot… what a biological affectation to have. He had never disassembled an Exo in a clinical sense - he was becoming more and more glad of that fact as time went on - and he heard little from the Eliksni under him. Little room for clinical disassembly in their work.

「... Dark yesterdays.」

As much as his Eliksni improved, the Captain noted, Zak continued to struggle with finding the right word. “... Dark… yesterdays?” A shake of the head. “Nama. Dark memories… painful memories.” Nodding, the Captain gently provided the correct translations for both. 「... What drags your mind to the past? Death? Dishonor? Misconduct?」 The Exo sighed slowly, nodding at the last. 「... Was this the reason you…?」 Another nod. “... You are… what was the phrase… 'odd duck,' Zachs. By own words, you make amends with pains. So bad misdeed that suffices not?” Yet another affirmative. Mithrax left it there. He understood dishonor… he understood failure. Mistakes, however… felt aberrant, to do this. Perhaps the mistake led to some dishonor, or... Perhaps, it was not simply a mistake.

He released Zak’s shoulder, leaving him to his meddling as he simply sat beside him, as the Hunter’s thoughts continued to wander. Took note a prolonged, sharp inhale…

“... It wasn’t as though I could never come back.”

Zak gawked at the Warlock in his entryway, if only for a moment, before he turned his face away, not missing where his eyes were wandering. “... You could’ve, though. You _should’ve_ never come back. After… after what I did?” He kept his right side to Avin, his own eye flitting down to his once-partner’s right side. “You shouldn’t…. How could you trust me enough to be here?” The question threw Avin off guard, he could see, the Awoken’s gaze falling further still as a familiar blue light hovered over his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a Ghost hate before.

“... I don’t know. I just know I couldn’t bear the weight of your absence either. So… weight versus weight. Heavier one wins.”

Zak wanted to scream. Wanted to shout and rave, scare him off. Wanted to pretend he didn’t feel the frayed strands of what was their bond of light pulled towards the Awoken as if by a breeze. Pretend he didn’t long to hold him again. But he knew full well why he wouldn’t. Why he shouldn’t.

Why he couldn’t.

“... What I did to you is unforgivable… you can’t have… you can’t forgive me. It’s not in your power.” He started as the Warlock closed the gap, gripping the collar of his cloak. Bad News met his heel as he backpedaled, skidding across the floor with a clatter of metal on wood boards as the full extent of the damage to the Exo’s face was put on full display for the Warlock. “... It’s not your right to say what I can and can’t forgive.” He watched the hand rise towards the scarring… almost let himself lean into it. Pushed the Warlock back. Rougher than he’d have liked, but not as roughly as he felt he should’ve.

“Avin… I don’t… You can’t trust me. You can’t-”  
[ / He’s right. You can’t trust him. / ]

He’d known Leshya wouldn’t be quiet long. He could see him practically vibrating with anger behind his Guardian’s shoulder. He couldn’t blame him an iota. [ / Avin, we need to leave. You didn’t listen to me then and look where it got you? You need to get out of here. / ] Zak just nodded slowly. “... Listen to him, Avin. I don’t know what Oldtown was… but I can’t…. You can forgive me all you want, trust me all you want. I can’t trust me anymore. So… go.”

The standoff didn’t end. Avin remained where he was. Zak felt something bitter, tensing, tension welling in his throat.

「Hunter.」

Zak’s eye cracked open as he heard Mithrax’s voice. Lost in the past… well and truly. The sun had set since he remembered caring for his rifle. He was warmer than he’d expect for night on Io too... 

Perhaps it was the cloak wrapped over him, or the Eliksni he was leaned against.

Sitting up groggily, Zak didn’t quite register the Captain’s arm sliding off his shoulder until he caught the fact that he was now wearing two cloaks. His immediate jump to his feet got Mithrax chuckling again, the Eliksni standing up in kind as he hands the Hunter his rifle.

「You sleep poorly… and you seek comfort when you do, Zachs.」

Realizing that he must’ve leaned on Mithrax in his sleep, Zak’s mouth-lights burned without words, the Exo grateful his helmet was on. “... Sorry.” Chuckling again, Mithrax shrugged. “Eia. Seemed good-allow to rest. Dangerous territory. Undoes to be weakened.” The Hunter wanted to protest, to deny. But he couldn’t… not only could he not deny it, he found himself stuck on the thought that Mithrax had not only let him sleep… he’d put his cloak over him. 

They parted ways shortly - Zak was called away by the Vanguard to execute a strike, and Mithrax had a new target on Titan. It was…. A slower process than usual.

And even en route to join up with the fireteam, Zak found himself unable to shake the feeling of nestling up against the Eliksni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally wrote three more chapters to shore up the backlog last night... given the last update was so short, I didn't wanna let it sit overfilled too long.


	9. Quicksilver Rumors

“Mercury? Why Mercury? Is Vex-bound gridworld.”

The unlikely pair found themselves perched in Mithrax’s lookout post again, Zak once again trying to force DARCI into a functioning state while the Captain worked on cleaning a wire rifle. Zak wasn’t sure he’d seen it used anytime vaguely resembling recently. The Eliksni, of course, was not obligated to only clean weapons he’d used around the Hunter, but still, it seemed more an affectation to be cleaning the weapon at present. Or perhaps, something else. Shrugging in answer to the Captain’s question, the Guardian checking DARCI’s scope and sighing a bit as he realized there were further disconnects he’d have to puzzle out the location of in the weapon’s computing matrices.

“Been hearing some… rumors, let’s call ‘em. One of the old guard seems like he might still be kicking around… and from the sounds of things, in trouble.”

Notably absent was the admission that he’d also heard rumors of a massive Vex construct, one that could sim out reality itself, used to compute the endstate of the universe. A mechanism he’d very much like to poke around inside. “Besides… it’s been a while since I did something needlessly dangerous. I’m starting to lose my death-defying edge.” Zak hadn’t known Eliksni to ever roll their eyes, but color him shocked and amused as four of them idly circled upwards across from his perch.

“Zak Nine still Hunter-Fool as ever.”  
“And you’re the Captain-Fool that keeps enabling me, so really we’re both at fault here.”

Mithrax looked only briefly confused, before he caught on to the joke, snorting and shaking his head. Zak just shot him a little grin as he got back to work, inwardly grateful the Eliksni had been getting faster on the uptake with his terrible sense of humor. His attention was eventually called back to Mithrax, however, by their conversation returning, albeit in another language. His turn to learn, it seemed.

「So Hunter-Fool is seeking out the old Vanguard, hm?」  
「Not so… just old… Well, both, maybe. Osiris.」

Mithrax rumbled softly, an approximation of a pensive “Hm,” before he got back to work himself. Zak found himself watching Mithrax more than his own rifle, something that would cause him no end of consternation with how many parts he’d dropped into Titan’s methane ocean, or the superstructure of the arcology.

[ / Zak, please, that’s the seventh part I’ve had to save from a long fall. / ]

At least Gheist was there to pick up after his pining, he reflected as he turned his attentions back to his weapon, missing the fact that Mithrax had very clearly heard his Ghost and was now chuckling softly at the Exo as he took his turn to watch him working.

Zak wasn’t quite sure when they’d finally decided to part ways. It’d been quiet, none of the gruff fanfare that had characterized their initial meetings. None of the posturing, the formality. There’d simply been a point where they both knew it was time to leave, where they’d both disappeared where they needed to be heading. Sitting behind the controls of his jumpship, the Hunter noted it had been similar to the ways he’d used to part with Avin, on the occasions he’d needed to. He covered the immediate stabbing pang in his chest with the further thought that his battered delta-wing could really use a fresh coat of paint.

[ / You should really consider taking us out of orbit, Zak. The Hive migh tjust decide to ram you with a tomb ship if you don't. / ]  
“Yeah, yeah…”

As his fingers traced over the control surfaces, Zak couldn’t shake the feeling of a serpent coiling about his shoulders. Mercury… Torn to pieces by the _Almighty,_ overtaken yet before that by the Vex. Red Legion and the causal pain in the ass all on one little ball of burning ex-dirt. He’d take Nessus over that any day. At least Failsafe made for a good conversational partner. Pulling up the most recent updates for the planet’s charts, he found the transmat zone for the Lighthouse, pulling up its coordinates and slowly spooling up the drives. Quietly wished Mithrax could’ve tagged along.

Punched it.

Once his ship dropped out of slipspace, Zak angled it down for an atmospheric descent, Gheist just barely having to correct his angle in the process. He was starting to become a practiced hand with this again, after far too many years of letting Gheist do the flying for him. After the Lightloss, he wasn’t keen on learning on the fly again anytime soon. Still, Gheist did have to send it back out to orbit. He wasn’t gonna land on this planet. He could think of seventeen reasons why just based on the unstable footing alone, disregarding the potential for his ship to suddenly be converted into a hostile enemy force. No, for Mercury, boots were the only thing hitting the ground. And so they did.

Landing in front of the Lighthouse, Zak was quick to duck behind cover, almost immediately coming under fire. He’d expected nothing less, but it was still a bit of a jolt to transmat in and almost immediately feel the heat of a bolt of Solar energy from a slap rifle whizzing by his head. Cracking the cylinder on the old-fashioned revolver he was lugging around, he checked the rounds-in-chamber briefly, snapping it shut again and promptly ducking out of cover to fire three shots. Two radiolaria tanks cracked open. He’d missed the fact that the third construct was a Minotaur. The Minotaur, in turn, failed to miss the Exo’s torso with the torch hammer it was carrying.

Wheezing back into the realm of the living with Gheist’s help, Zak quickly drew a sidearm and tore through its shielding, not even bothering to rise from the prone position he’d been raised in as he fired the final shot from the revolver.

[ / You know, you’re not gonna last long here if you get that sloppy. / ]

As if he wasn't so very well aware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I may have written more than just a few chapters earlier this week. I may have to extend my "I'll post at this point in the backlog" if I keep this up.


	10. Fools of a Feather

The wind always sounded nice here. The quiet gust, the fluttering of his cloak, the rustling of the grass around him, against him, against itself. Making golden waves ahead of him as he stared up at that imposing tower. Without his armor, he could feel the millet brushing up against him properly, his ‘civilian’ clothes much less armored… but he’d always appreciated the freeing feeling. Still, his cloak was wrapped around his neck, the fluff from the collar rustling as much in the wind as the cloak itself. He was a Hunter, after all. Even here, he’d never be without it.

Especially not this one.

One step at a time, he began his journey toward the tower, as he had so many nights before. Following the only real landmark to be found. The long, lonely trip to the Deep Stone Crypt. Zak had heard from other Exo that it wasn’t always lonely… or ever, for some. But his trip had always been solitary... always quiet. One of the lucky ones, he’d always supposed.

“Zak... Why?”

The Exo’s ventilation stopped as he heard the voice behind him. Whirling to face it… he found nothing. But as he turned back, he found a lone figure standing between him and the tower. His robes were torn open along his left side, an open, purple wound drowning in Void linking him to a tether Zak couldn’t see. That he didn’t need to see. Slack in his hand was an ancient hand cannon, though slowly, Zak could see, his fingers were closing.

_’This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’_

Zak tried to raise his hand tried to hold out a palm. Instead, he found himself raising a cannon of his own. Angular, iridescent. Bad News for all involved. He froze. The Warlock did not. The old rose further. The new slowly fell from slack grip.

“... I’m so sorry, Avin.”

「HUNTER-FOOL!!」

Zak was jerked awake to the sound of gunfire, feeling himself dragged to the ground by a broad, heavy claw. Solar bolts of stolen energy impacted on the wall against which he’d been resting moments prior as he tumbled into a ditch, behind further angular Vex architecture. A cloak entangled him. Not his cloak. But very close.

「M-Mithrax?!」

Crouched protectively over the Hunter, the Captain held a shock pistol, his swords and rifle still stowed as he fired over their cover at the encroaching constructs. Drawing the old fashioned revolver from its holster, Zak prepared to return fire in kind, before realizing that something was dripping onto his side. Looking down, he saw purple-red, mingling with blue-white, smeared against his armor. Eye followed the trail to the Captain… to the half-cauterized wound in his side. His ventilation hitched again.

「... Why did come, you absolute fool?!」

Mithrax had no time to protest as Zak blinked out from beneath him, into the air above cover. Leveled his arm as he fell, and drew the other back. As he landed with a furious scream, the Void burst forth from its floodgates, and the arrow tore through a minotaur, unmaking its radiolaria tank almost instantly. Deep purple lines began to trace angular, circular patterns. A cruel mockery of a Vex structural nexus. Spreading like a pathfinder trace tree through a maze, slowly catching and binding Vex after Vex after Vex, the chains of the tether slowly solidifying until, suddenly, they all drew taut, a spiderweb of lancing Void Light. He leveled his cannon at the nearest Vex, and fired each and every round into it. Watched pulses of Light undulate through the connections. Watched the Vex slowly unmade.

Leaving it unloaded, Zak slammed the revolver back into its holster as he slid back down the structure, quickly taking the bandages Gheist transmatted for him. Mithrax tried to push him away, but Zak pulled his (admittedly rather limited) armor covering back to get at the wound, making sure the wound was clear of radiolaria before he began wrapping it up.

「Hunter-Fool, you-」  
「Shut up, save breath. You-」  
_”Calm down, Zak.”_

Mechanical hands froze, only the slight twitching of confused servos moving the bandages further as the Eliksni gripped his shoulder. “Have had worse… please relax.” Zak couldn’t see any worse scars on him… but then again, he’d heard tales by now, firsthand tales, of just how Fallen Dregs were cast down, and how they were rewarded if they could claw back up. Ether must’ve been one hell of a drug. Sighing, he slowly got back to work, stemming what was left of the blood loss. Cinching the bandages tight. Mithrax winced, but only just. Something that didn’t go missed by the Hunter. Sighing, he watched Mithrax slowly reach for him, only to pass him halfway and rest against him. Another flinch. Though he didn’t push him back.

「... And you call me fool… for coming here in first place. Yet you follow.」

Mithrax didn’t have an immediate answer to that, it seemed, pausing for a few moments. It was nice to be on this end of things for once, Zak noted, able to make the Captain pause for thought. He never had to pause for long, however, and as four arms wrapped around his back, it was Zak’s turn to flinch from the surprise of it. The wholly welcome, disarmingly sudden surprise.

“... You are still Hunter-Fool. Maybe we are like in this.”  
“... _A_ like.”

The Captain chuckled dryly, and nodded. “Alike… Eia.” Zak’s hands came to rest on the Eliksni’s sides, careful to avoid the bandaged wound, feeling his breathing slowly moving his exoskeleton beneath his fingers. Feeling three-fingered hands against himself from behind, gently pulling him closer as he too felt his helmet come to rest gently on the Fallen armor plating on the Captain’s chest. Felt Gheist flitting nervously about his head, keeping watch for them, fully aware of how distracted his Guardian was at present. An effort appreciated, but undeserved. And underlining the limited time they had here.

「... You need to get safety. Will help...」 The Captain nodded, but made no moves to rise, or even to let Zak do so. 「... Mithrax...」 He watched the Captain’s outer eyes slim somewhat. An Eliksni smile, of sorts. 「Just a moment more, Zak-9.」 The Exo found himself unable to argue. So he let himself rest against his partner again, running his hand along the Eliksni’s side. Gauntlets playing along armor straps and under plating.

Zak-9 felt the Captain shiver softly.

「... I suppose I could give you one more moment... Two, perhaps.」

* * *

As he watched Mithrax’s skiff disappear into a shimmer of not-quite-sky, Zak turned a small cube, marked with the scripture of Osiris’ followers, over in his fingers, tracing it with an acquired care. Smiled somewhat softly behind his visor as he considered following. It would be a very poor choice - at the end of the day, he couldn’t simply leave the work he was doing here - but he had trouble not making it all the same.

[ / ... Zak? Zak. Try the Radiolarian Culture, Zak. / ]

Shaken out of his stupor by Gheist’s recommendations, Zak glanced to his Ghost, the component floating between them, suspended by light. Smiling more weakly he nods, taking it and beginning to interface the two. “Thanks… sorry, got distracted.” Gheist rolled his eye. [ / Obviously. / ] Chuckling softly, Zak-9 reflected on how little he deserved his Ghost as one of the characters on the cube began to glow faintly. “... Yup, that was one of ‘em. And… the others were reacting. Guess we need a few more of those. You figured out the key yet?” The Ghost turned side to side a bit. [ / Not yet. Close though. If you could convince Osiris to share, this would be going a bit faster. / ]

He laughed softly and shook his head in response. “Osiris doesn’t need another follower begging for his wisdom. He gave us someplace to start. If we want to make use of that damn Forest, we should learn the rest for ourselves. Probably safer that way as well.” He could tell Gheist didn’t exactly disagree on that point. Best to go in knowing why you were doing what you were doing... Or at least knowing you don’t really know without experiencing it. Not unlike other things... 

[ / Zak, don’t start daydreaming again. / ]

Right. Back to work then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... It's been a busy week for writing, somehow.


	11. Recollection

Blazing solar winds whipped sand past his embankment cover, the wave almost overtopping him as he stared down the red scope. Watched Cabal amassing for another attempt on the gateway to the Forest. Watched the Vex shoring up their defenses. Kept the barrel just far enough back so that the dust concealed him, just enough, not quite enough to obscure the scope. The overlarge Eliksni cloak served as cover itself against the grating powder, hood keeping his helm clear, keeping his scope covered.

|They’ll be at each other again soon… Interfere now, or perhaps gamble on being able to sneak by? Optimal windows are drawing close and closed.|

DARCI hummed cheerily in his ear as he lingered the reticule of her scope over the Hydra hovering ominously across from the leading Centurion, a tense standoff having already begun. No rounds were exchanged yet. Positions still weren’t ideal. But there was an opening drawing closer, and Zak could see it even as the rifle’s voice chimed, |Opportunity crystallizing!| Switching his angle, he watched a Phalanx move between him and the Hydra…

The round thrummed loudly through the air, tearing into the gel-compression heat sink, through the Phalanx, and into the optic of the Hydra. It wasn’t quite enough to down the construct, but mayhem was immediate as the Cabal and Vex were forced to rather suddenly, hastily, and most importantly shoddily, engage the other. |Executed nicely! Only point three degrees of correction necessary off the bore axis and half a twist of extra spin to compensate for instability.| Laughing softly as DARCI elaborates on the corrections he’d need to make on his aim next time, Zak pulls the rifle back, about to sling her over his shoulder and move when he hears her chime, |Five o clock, friendly contact! Do not be alarmed!|

Zak jumped out of his chassis, summarily alarmed, as he was snuck up on. Especially when he realized who the Warlock behind him was.

“Avin?! What’re y-”

The Exo inhaled sharply as Gheist brought him back, the lingering sensation of a Line Rifle’s round tearing through the back of his head sending all sorts of false feedback loops screaming as he looked to the side to see Avin returning fire. “You goddamn fool… you come out here _now,_ of all times? Why?!” Avin didn’t look as he reloaded, sniping back, “You invited me, remember?” Zak did his best to prove Exo could gawk, staring incredulously at the Awoken from behind his visor, before he pulled the angular, tube-adorned pulse rifle from his back, resting DARCI on the dune (|Please do not forget me this time!|) and blind-fired bursts over the crest.

“I asked you to come almost two months ago! And it was because I thought you needed to know about Osiris more than anything, he’s common goddamn knowledge now!”  
“Yeah, and after that you’re still not back. What the hell are you doing out here still?”  
“Why do you care?!”

Ducking back into cover fully to reload himself, Zak considered their options, hurling a ball of void-fire over his shoulder to wall off the dune and delay the combined offensive now advancing on their position. “You… Traveler-blessed fool.”

_「Hunter-fool...」_

Shaking Mithrax out of his head as Avin echoed his words unintentionally, Zak glowered at the Warlock for a moment, at his apparent refusal to elaborate. “... I’ve got this under control. You can head back, tell Cayde I’m… I dunno, tell him something good. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” He hated this. Hated how Avin kept coming back around. How he refused to listen to him, to Gheist or Leshya… to _reason._ After what he’d done… the Warlock still kept coming back.

“... You keep pretending I’m good at letting go.”

There was a brief pause, a silence of words even as gunfire tore it asunder from increasingly close range. Then Zak shook his head, rolled back over to shoulder the rifle as he took to a knee. “Dunno where you two get off calling me a goddamn fool at this point,” he muttered as fire returned, finally, to the encroaching constructs and warriors.

* * *

Crushing a tank of radiolaria beneath his feet, Zak stood before the gateway to the forest, holding the decrypted “prophecies” in his hand, rolling the cubes around each other. The force that attempted to push him away billowed his cloak, but didn’t budge him an inch.He finally had his key. He could finally explore… and yet. He found himself turning away, to see the Warlock, standing at an anxious distance. On edge. Afraid. He saw the ghosts of Venus in Avin's visor for a moment. He could use those.

“... So much for being bad at letting go.”  
“I-”  
“Leshya.”  
[ / Zak. / ]

The ghost was just as terse, as biting as ever. Good.

“Don’t let him follow me until he’s willing to confront what happened.”  
“Zak, wait-!”

The Hunter disappeared into the gateway, dissolving into squares and grids before the Warlock’s eyes. His Ghost floated behind his shoulder, glaring at the gateway long after it had engulfed Zak-9.

[ / … You saw him. Now let’s go. / ]

...

[ / … You saw him. That’s enough, isn’t it? / ]

Zak sat within the entrance of the gateway, slumped against the wall, beneath the fluttering tags that marked the one safe terminal in the Forest. He’d been here twice prior. This was the first he was here as the fruits of his own labor. It felt far too bitter, now, to enjoy.

[ / … I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. I think he’s looking for you _in spite_ of- / ]  
“That’s the problem, Gheist… he’s looking for me in spite of what I did to him. How could I have done that to him, Gheist? How could he possibly think I could be trusted again?”

Gheist didn’t have an answer to that.

* * *

Avin’s hand had returned to the Fallen cloak’s collar, the hide in the forest quiet but for the hasty ventilation of the Exo, the heavy breathing of the Awoken as they stared each other down. Guilt and intensity, in equal measure, neither waning… but one having the advantage of height, and synthetic strength. Zak shoved Avin back, sitting down onto the mat that served as a bed, and looked down at the cannon that had slid up against it.

“... I can’t just go… You-”

Zak’s gaze snapped back up as the Warlock gasped in pain, grasping at his side. Dread settled into the pit of his stomach as he slowly stood, about to take a step forwards when Leshya flitted between them. Glared silently at him. He stopped, sat back down. Let Leshya tend to his Guardian. Remembered what Gheist had said as they tried to track down Tevis in time....

_[ / Your bows leave such recognizable scarring… and yet they’re still unique between you. Fascinating. / ]_

“... It never healed, did it?”

[ / Of _course_ it never healed you idiot! You _shot_ him! You tore through him! I can’t even begin to fix the _physical_ damage you did, and your thin tin skull can’t wrap around the idea that you might’ve actually hurt him, can it?! / ]

Zak didn’t speak. Zak _couldn’t_ speak.

_[ / I should have **never** asked you for help. / ]_

[ / … How could either of you have known? / ]

A low sigh echoed through the small angular chamber, as Gheist’s question interrupted the memory echoing in his head. His lone green optic turned on the triangular gateway across from it. “... We couldn’t’ve. We can’t see the future. Yet.” He pushed himself to his feet. Donned his helmet once more, and pulled the hood of his cloak over top of it. “I aim to change that.”

Pulling the bolt back on the God Machine, Zak charged the pulse rifle, and presented the Forest with his cypher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally gonna go up as two chapters.. but looking at the length here I ended up recombining them, they felt too short on their own. So that's one extra out of my backlog but that's probably not a terrible thing with where my motivation to write's been lately.


	12. Etymology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the concept of names is put off for more important things.

Zak felt years older than the last time he’d seen the Captain when he found him nestled into their Arcology hideout. The Captain could sense it, even though only a few solar days had passed. Settling onto the spar, Zak propped a boot up on a crossbeam, his helm simply stored by Gheist to save him from having to catch it later.

「... What did you find in that construct, Zak?」  
「What you would expect… Lots of very angry Vex. And... more. So… so much more.」

Mithrax watched the Hunter as he stared out over the methane waves, about to speak again when the Hunter turned back to him. Appraised him. There was a loneliness in that eye… but it wasn’t pained, as he’d have expected. There was something else there... not quite fear, though it carried the same weight, the same unease. Perhaps it was simply a "missed-read," it was hard for the Captain to say. Zak had been something of a minor enigma since he returned.

“Why did the Eliksni start going by the Fallen, Mithrax? A bunch of your crew used the word, even in your language… It seems to sting so much more. Has pride become such a distant concept, by now?” He briefly turned his palm towards Mithrax, before he continued, “You seem to still hold onto that honor… but why don’t they?”

It was the longest the Eliksni had to pause, Zak would recall after the fact. He mulled over it, turned away for a time. Slowly turned things over in his head.

“... Why was I proud of the thought of being docked for failure as a Dreg, Zak? The Great Machine abandoned us… desperation drove us dark. You see how our Houses descend, taking any, everything to get to the Machine. Honor… long abandoned. The docked do not choose their own words." Zak’s eye lingered on Mithrax’s four, before he slowly moved from his perch, briefly disappearing in a wisp of the void, and reappearing on the more solid ground Mithrax made his own perch. The Captain paused, but did not draw back, even as Zak slowly closed the distance between them. He could hear his soft, ever-strained ventilation, just as Zak could likely hear the quiet hiss of his rebreather cycling his ether.

「... You don’t look docked to me.」 He could feel the Captain shiver as his hand came to rest on his thinly-covered exoskeleton. Slowly, he pressed in, felt along the scar left by a bolt from a Torch Hammer, and a clumsy Hunter’s field medic work. Healing fast, in spite of it all. Ether really was one hell of a drug, not that a Lightbearer had any room to talk. 「Maybe you wouldn’t choose it… but I see an Eliksni before me, no Fallen.」

One eye met four. Locked tight. Tense respiration echoed with slow, deliberate ventilation. Slowly, the Hunter’s hand slid along the Captain’s side.

「... So if you saw your reflection, Misraaks… what would stand before you?」

Zak didn’t hear his answer. He felt it instead, as three hands slowly came to grace his own sides through the gilt armor beneath Zak’s cloak. Felt himself slowly being pulled closer, felt the last of those four hands resting on his chin. His gloves slid across thick cloth wrappings, plucking at loose folds and rough edges, and against notches and plates when they're not hidden beneath. He felt the softer exoskeleton of the Captain's fingers mimicking his motions, tracing his sides through the thicker padding of his own armor, and more directly exploring the plates on his face. He would forever be grateful to whoever made him that they'd given him the means to feel things on his face, in spite of every reason he had to feel the opposite.

“... I see Misraaks. And his insufferable Hunter-Fool hanging over his shoulder, saying foolish words about docked things and Captains.” The Exo couldn’t help but grin as he leaned into the Eliksni, though this left him ill-prepared to answer when, inevitably, Mithrax turned his question back on him. “So what do you see in the reflection? The Hunter, or the Fool?” It was Zak’s turn to pause, but before he’d even had time to think, he heard a low, rumbling laugh escape the Captain. 「I think, regardless… you should be looking for Zak-Nine. Not the Hunter, or his mistakes which make him the Fool. You spend too much time looking back and out. You do not seem docked either… So perhaps you should be choosing _your_ name, not mine.」

His lone optic roamed upwards. Saw Mithrax, all four eyes gently narrowed, staring back down at him. That fond smile written on his masked face for Zak to see, to eagerly take in. His hand rose, gently rested against his companion’s jaw. Fingers tracing delicately across the rebreather, as he felt those four hands exploring his own form much in kind. Resisting every urge telling him to pull him closer, and pull the mask away. To get just a small glimpse of his Captain beneath his armor.

“... Now seems a poor time to be picking a name.”  
「What would you suggest be done instead, Hunter-Fool?」

The exo did not have to think on his answer - he knew full well what he would suggest in its stead. The act, however, of answering, would take a long, laborious time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to say 'and thus the slow burn ends' but I don't think this qualifies as anything vaguely resembling slow burn in the context of the writing... In the actual timeframe of the story, maybe, but.
> 
> Also, I've gone back and edited a few chapters, changed some wording and such, and, most importantly, adjusted any definite length-of-time mentions to match a change in the main canon I've been writing in - The timescale of a great many things has been drawn out. I'd love to give full context here, but... I can't. So instead I hope it suffices to clarify on the immediate surroundings of this story - the Red War took place over two years, rather than a number of weeks or months, and the events of Curse of Osiris occurred a full year later (and similarly over a longer period of time). Warmind will also take place roughly a year after Curse of Osiris concludes, with Forsaken following roughly a year after that.


	13. Forest of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past and the future haunt the present in equal measure

Two pairs of boots scraped across dusty concrete, the sun beating down on the pavement through cracks in the skyline. Slipping between buildings as the evening light ducked under the Traveler. Cloth rustled softly as the cool sunset wind pushed back against the heated light, and pushed bits of trash and debris about. This arena had never quite gotten cleaned up after the Red War. It was well enough, one should think, given it was an arena now, but it still felt wrong to have such a decimated area in the heart of the Last City left completely unrepaired. Not that the Hunter leading the way had much room to think about that.

“Why the change of plans? I thought we were just going to have a quiet evening in.”

The Hunter didn’t stop or look back, just continuing forwards. Felt something driving him, even as his head filled with static. He had to help. Had to help him. Had to… what did he have to do?

“Just have a thought in my head, s’all... Humor me.”

Words came unbidden, automatically. His voice, speaking stolen words. Why were they here? What would it accomplish?

“Alright, fine. At least you settled on Oldtown. We can still get dinner afterwards.”

Help. Practice. Was he going to help him save himself? Train? No, wrong... what was... Unknown quantities battered each other in the struggle to sort them, assign them appropriately. Protocols of panic overlapped and protested. He stopped. Slowly lifted his helmet.

“Okay. Here we are.”

Where were they? Why? He felt eyes on his back. Hid from them beneath the helmet. His own couldn’t make sense of what they were seeing. Oldtown. Arena. Crucible? Wrong. The hissing of his seals locking drew him briefly back to reality. Why had he brought Avin to a Crucible arena?

Mind flitted back. Visions of a pain shaped like loss. Not of death, but of fingers slipping through his own.

Show him. Help him.

“This’ll just be the two of us. Don’t hold back. This isn’t a game.”  
[ / Avin, we need to leave. _Now._ / ]  
“I know, I know, you don’t need to be so serious tho-”

His arm rose without his will. It didn’t need it. Protocol took over. Protect him. Keep danger away. Tear it away, however necessary. The hammer of the angular revolver drew back beneath his thumb.

“Woah, hey! Give me a second to get _my_ helmet on-”  
“But death is what you’re after, isn’t it?”

Don’t fire. You can’t protect the dead.

His finger tensed. Wrong.

[ / Zak!! / ]

Zak’s ventilation systems screamed in protest as he jerked awake, forcing more air through the machinery than was healthy for it in his panic. The sound was greeted with a series of stuttering, electronic _”Whoop-whoop-whoop”_ s and flickering, static sounds. Vex constructs were shimmering into view not twenty meters distant, slap rifles leveled squarely at him. He kicked to one side, out of instinct, and blinked to the other, three heavy snaps echoing through the air as his cannon tore holes in the Goblins’ radiolaria tanks. The constructs collapsed swiftly into the chitin-encrusted architecture of the Arcology, disappearing in a moments. They didn’t belong there, in the end.

[ / You can’t drift off like that, Zak. Especially not someplace like this. / ]  
“Yeah, yeah…”  
[ / Zak, do not brush this off. I stayed quiet for a year while you tried to get yourself killed because I didn’t know how to help, but you choosing to stop here was- / ]  
“I know, Gheist, I know… I couldn’t leave this line to terminate without me, though.”

The Hunter slowly gathered his things, reloading the handcannon as the sounds of amassing Hive began to converge on their location. Drawn by gunshots and yells alike. By the time they arrived, he was gone, moving deeper into the arcology. Following the same lead he’d followed the last seven times. The trail of crystalline void, shed in desperation. Following hints, rumors. Whispers he heard in the Crypt. Husks littered the already-chitinous ground, dead and dying worms scattered, spasming, crushed spitefully underfoot as the the Nightstalker followed the trail. All the way to the same end he found each and every time.

Mithrax dragged the Exo’s hulk along, ignoring his faint pleas to turn back, to leave him, a small cadre of Vandals and Marauders helping keep the Hive at bay as the Captain kept two blades at bear. Zak walked past them both, a shimmer in the air for just long enough to escape notice. Followed the glittering dust where crystalline Light had been trampled, and was slowly evaporating into the air. Found the cavernous room. Found the mountain of corpses.

Found the one he always dreaded to see at the center.

He’d been too late to find the deciding factor. Yet again. Gheist looked about ready to start playing back the differences. He was cut off by a gentle hand resting on his pointed shell.

[ / Zak… / ]

The Hunter knelt by the Warlock’s corpse, brushed aside his hand. Gently grasped the ancient hand cannon, worn and burnt from new scarring that hadn’t happened yet. Pulled it away and checked the chamber, the magazine. Bone dry, both.

[ / ... We don’t even know if this will happen, Zak. / ]  
“Doesn’t matter, does it? Not really.”  
[ / It does. Because if you’re running yourself ragged, driving yourself out of your mind trying to fix something the Vex can’t even accurately simulate- / ]  
“Even Osiris has said this is off. I wouldn’t risk this if I didn’t feel something was pulling us here.”  
[ / What, because you think it’s a trap or some gambit you _want_ to get sucked into it? / ]

Zak remained silent for a moment, before he holstered the burnt weapon.

“... Run it back. Show me the changes. See if we can find out why we’re here.”

He didn’t have to see Gheist’s optic to feel the disapproval in it as the world slowly rewound around them. He kept his hand on the weapon, grasped it firmly, watched it reappear on Avin’s corpse. Felt the grip, some perverse comfort. The weapon was real... And perhaps all this was too. But that didn’t mean it had to be.

「Zak... you’re doing it again.」

The Exo’s optic cracked open. He was in the Arcology. Not the future, not the Forest-based simulation. The now. Again. Warmer than the Arcology had any right to be. He slowly pushed himself up, only to realize there was weight on his back. Looked back to see Mithrax, whose embrace seemed rather all-encompassing at the moment. The lights in his cheeks burned somewhat, in spite of lack of words. He could feel the Eliksni’s exoskeleton against his own, sharing warmth between them beneath a solitary cloak.

「... Doing?」  
「You speak in your sleep… Call out in fear for a name.」

Attempting to sit up again, the Exo found the Captain reluctant to stir. He couldn’t blame him. Still, it took him a moment more to give in and settle for simply turning over, watching Gheist hover nearby. He seemed to know the memories haunting his dreams. As he always did. But he said nothing, for now, and the Exo’s attention returned to his companion once more.

「... It’s nothing.」  
「You are an even worse liar in Eliksni, Zak.」  
「It’s… it’s nothing I can do anything about now.」

Four eyes appraised his one for a few moments, before the Eliksni sat up, pulling the Exo with him. Held him closer all the while, even as the cool air snuck in as the cloak fell back.

「Then perhaps for now, you should dwell on other things.」

Zak wanted to protest, but that look had its way of shutting him down before he could think to do so.

“... Eia. Maybe I should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've accidentally added too many chapters to my backlog at once again in an attempt to get it up to more than being a week out, so there's a full other coming before Sunday thanks to my miscounting. As for the inciting event behind the title, you're close to having the full story, at least of the event's direct accounts. It's not far off now.


	14. Shot Down Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zak-9 forgets to keep his guard up in enemy territory. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was originally gonna save this for tomorrow... but I'm having fun with this, and also impatient. It'll be my last "extra" chapter of the week even if I write more, I'll schedule out some slots next week in that event, but. For now, enjoy.

Flames crackle and pop loudly throughout. The heaving, twisting screech of failing metal. Sputtering of half-fueled, fractionally-functional engines adds to the din as Zak-9 opens his lone optic, and notes that the ground seemed to be above his canopy. A hand slowly grasped for the clasps of his harness, strained and hindered by the impact damage to his chassis. It could’ve been worse. His coolant and supply systems didn’t seem to be leaking in any major way. But he was fairly certain his right leg was a total loss.

[ / Guardian and Jumpship down within the hazard zone, two clicks east of the Lighthouse, requesting all available assistance! Zak, stop moving, your neck. / ]

It took the Exo a moment to realize there was a large shard of the canopy punching through his armor. Lodged in the synthetic musculature and hydraulics within, but, fortunately, not having caused undue damage to anything. At least the armor did its work. Gingerly, he dragged it free, slowly tossing it aside, before managing to unfasten one of the clasps, another belt giving way as it burns and dropping him down to the ceiling. At least somewhat - his leg was indeed stuck hard in the machinery crushed in around it.

“Agh…. What I wouldn’t give for a-”

The crowbar was dropped on his hand before he could finish, Gheist going back to the distress call in short order. There was no point healing him now, when that leg might have to come off first anyways. Leveraging it into the wreckage, and flinching as a pool of flame started to creep close from some variety of fluid leak, Zak began to twist and wrench at his own foot, biting back his pain for a few moments before he tore the prybar free, grabbed for the pistol at his waist, and pointed it at his knee.

Five heavy cracks echoed across the shattered Mercurian landscape.

Within a few moments of dragging himself from the wreckage, Gheist had fixed his leg and the various other accrued wounds, Zak quickly testing his various ranges of motion, hopping across the uneven, cubic terrain to seek cover.

“Okay… what the hell was that, Gheist?”

[ / Cyclops. You tried to take your approach too short. / ]

Groaning, he stared at the burning wreckage of his ship from a safe distance, eventually muttering, “Gonna have to get back somehow… guess not with that though. Is there a clear path to the Lighthouse from here? It feels like the terrain here is too spread to use…” They could wait for backup. Try to hold out. He didn’t have the ammunition for a siege, but. Perhaps he could hide. Or perhaps Gheist had an idea. He could feel his Ghost running over some thoughts as he left a transmission beacon some distance away. Far enough that they’d at least know if something less than friendly found it before it found them.

[ / I think there’s a conflux about a quarter-click south. Maybe we can make use of that. / ]  
“Worth a shot, I guess.”

The reading Gheist had picked up, however, was pretty far from a conflux.

Worn boots scuffed across the cubic surfaces as he tracked the signal, ducking in and out of view in the open, sliding behind cover where it was available to avoid patrols. The heat was starting to cook him through his armor, his “breathing” growing heavy and labored as his damaged internals begin to drag and grind from overexertion. Struggling to keep level, relying on small shots of Light from his Ghost, Zak eventually managed to find the signal.

“... Gheist, tell me what I’m looking at.”  
[ / Presumably, the same thing I am. / ]

Shimmering before them was an enormous white cage, erected around what looked like a centuries old jumpship, like-new. Time flickered back and forth within. A rusted hulk in the present one moment, a pristine, freshly landed craft when it first arrived the next, still spooling down. And in the middle, some smouldering wreckage of a transitory state, and infinite others aside. Making his way closer, Zak quickly put a burst through the radiolaria tanks of five Vex milling about it. He could already taste the ozone as the planet’s attention turned to him.

“Sixty seconds, Gheist, think you can get it out of that loop in workable condition?”  
[ / I can try. Keep me covered, in case I need sixty-five. / ]

It was hard to keep from laughing, in spite of all this, as he took up a defensive position, and Gheist started working. As he checked his magazine, and the cannon on his hip, he heard the crackle of his radio. Letting a sharp click resonate from his vocal synthesizer to confirm to Gheist he’d heard it, and prevent him from pausing his work to check for certain, he heard the telltale distortions of one of the Vanguard’s “local” channels. Someone friendly, at least. Hopefully.

[ / Hey, who’s that up there irritating the Vex? You’re making it very hard to keep their focus where we need it right now. / ] Sagira. More than he’d been expecting to hear, admittedly. “That’d be me, that’d be Zak. Ship got shot down, found another one. It’s just a bit…” [ / Displaced. / ] “Thank you, please don’t stop working.” He could see the telltale signs of the transmat storms beginning to form. They’d locked down his location. He chambered the first round of his rifle, even as Sagira crackled back into his ear. [ / What sort of hornet’s nest are you stirring up? They normally don’t get this excited for anything short of a major incursion, much less a… what is it, a battleship? Gunship? / ]

Glancing back, Zak took a second to check it again. Nope. Not a single gun aboard the thing. “... Just a jumpship.” The line was silent for an uncomfortably long five seconds, before the twiching keen of electricity filled his ears. “Look, they’re about to drop on us, so unless you guys can assist I’ve gotta _go.”_

“Hunter!”

Osiris. That was Osiris on the line. Why the hell was _Osiris_ on the line? “... Uh, y-yes?”  
“Buy your Ghost time, I’m sending him some relevant protocols. Whatever it is you found, they do not want you having it.”  
“Oh joy.”  
“But, given they’re so far from keen on the idea, and it’s now buying _us_ time, I must ask you continue.”

The first bolts of Solar energy snapped through the air inches from his head. Gheist twitched out of the way as Zak started to return fire. “ETA, GHEIST?” [ / More than sixty five! / ]

Swearing loudly, Zak hurled a ball of Void Fire over his cover, immolating a huge patch of Vex in the contraverse purple flames as he switched his radio back on. “You’ve got our coordinates, right? If we fuck this up, I’d appreciate someone getting my body back. I don’t wanna wake up a Vex after all this shit.”

* * *

[ / Got it! / ]  
“ ‘Bout… goddamn… time.”

Slumped back against his cover, blue oil leaking from a hole in his shoulder where a Torch Hammer had grazed him, Zak glanced back. There were bound to be more Vex coming. But for now, they’d stopped to regroup.

“Hunter, at best I’d guess you have thirty seconds.” Osiris now sounded a bit preoccupied himself. Perhaps, Zak mused, they weren’t regrouping after all.  
“Yeah… hey, thanks, I… owe you again.”  
“Just stay alive, Guardian. Your continued interference in the Forest is more useful than you know.”

Groaning as Gheist finally freed himself up to repair the damage, Zak staggered to his feet. The cage was still up, but it was now locked on the past. Where they needed it.

[ / When I drop this… you’ve gotta be ready. There’s Vex in there who don’t seem to know what we’re doing, frozen up. You loaded up? / ]  
“... Yeah, chamber’s hot.”

Four bursts tore through the Precursors as the cage fell, and Gheist quickly took him aboard. [ / Ten seconds before the next rift storm. / ] Of course Osiris couldn’t hold the entirety of their attention, the Exo chided himself, not on a planet that was, at a conservative guess, still 85% Vex-controlled. Sighing, Zak quickly switched over the archaic controls, marveling at the recognizable but new-old panels even as his hands found the ever familiar sticks. By the time the rift storms finalized, Zak had the ship halfway to orbit again.

“... Wonder why they didn’t want this getting out. It’s… just a jumpship.”  
[ / ... Zak, check the ship’s logs. / ]

Flicking open the panel on the console to make them human-readable, Zak pulled up the logs for the _Gray Pigeon._

“... Oh.”


	15. Foregone Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable pays a visit...

Since finding Saint-14’s ship, things had gotten nothing if not more complicated. It had been quite enough trying to track just how time had synced up between the world outside and the stretched timescale in the Forest because of their attempts at breaking the ship out, a few days of work alone spent conferring with Osiris in the forest and hearing very long lectures on the nature of nonlinear, pseudo-subjectively paracausal time. From what he could tell, it had been a mixture of their Light, the Vex's containment network for the ship, and a few other lesser factors. And that was the _dull_ part of the research - they still had to follow this new lead to Saint-14. After delivering the messages he'd found in the ship's final log, Zak had doubled down on going through the prophecies, trying to track the Titan down. Which meant spending more time pouring over them, and less running through his simulations. Wasted time, on the one hand, but on the other he couldn’t afford to simply leave Saint’s trail unfollowed. Alexandria had mentioned meeting him within the Forest, but the leads he could follow on that front had gone cold a long while ago. He could chase them all they wanted - their frozen roots would bear no fruit. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to simply stop... So he took one last foray. One more journey into the Infinite.

He returned tired, worn.

Findings were passed on to Vance, to Osiris, to give to whomever came next. Setting down the torch for the next runner to find. He had work to get back to. Work he’d put off for years in the past week alone. The Exo was already starting to count his lucky stars that Gheist could do him the favor of compressing memories where they didn’t matter as much, so many of the iterations in the Forest compacted into the relevant segments, the rest archived where he didn’t need to find them. Cutting out the effects of isolation he knew he’d be suffering from otherwise, even with his Ghost for company. Still, some days in the forest, the Hunter simply couldn’t afford to trim that fat.

Zak’s eye weighed heavier than usual as he sat down in one corner of the Lighthouse, ignoring the looks of the Followers nearby as he propped his rifle up nearby. He’d been in the Infinite Forest for sixty seconds. Years had passed. Years spent iterating, over and over, time and time again. The keening of failure honing his edge, driving him closer to success each time. But never quite making it. Always just out of reach.

Just like the tower.

Staring up from the field of golden grain, the Exo slowly began his journey, listening to the rustling of the wind through the grain. Listening as it ruffled his cloak, whistled gently past his head. Listening as it carried a terrifying, heart-rending shriek of agony. He did not have to search for the source, for as if he had simply blinked, he saw it, a creature, serpentine, many-limbed, with an angular face, covered in sores and Blight. It twisted and writhed among the millet, crushing stalks as its blood stained the grass, the earth. Its face opened, revealing bloodied eye sockets. Zak found pity in the ten wounds. A kindness it would be to put this creature out of its misery. He drew the ancient service revolver that had never been always at his hip. Leveled it at her skull.

Avin Xurhil pitched back as he pulled the trigger.

Screams of his own making drowned out his thought as Bad News fell heavy from his hand, tried to catch the Awoken as he dropped into the creature’s depression in the grass, but his legs refused to bend. Weight draped around his shoulders. Her claws and whispers alike broke his knees, forced him to them. Dragged his head up to see the face of the dead.

_”This is what you wanted, isn’t it... O Murderer Mine?”_

As his eye was crushed closed by the weight of his agony, Zak’s last sight was of a serpentine shape coiling about the tower. A singular yellow light glowed from a twisted flower at its peak, as a rattling roar echoed across the plains...

“Hunter!”

Zak awoke to find the angular casing of Jack-Queen-King, with its glass-encased, wire-wrapped Radiolarian cylinder, pointing into the air, white smoke trailing from the barrel, and from the hole in the column downrange. Brother Vance was standing over him, albeit at a safe distance.

“You would not stop screaming... I attempted to rouse you, but. Well...” Zak didn’t need to see the blind man gesture back, knowing full well already what the outcome of that had been. “... What happened?”

_’What you wanted... what... what was it I wanted?’_

“... A bad dream, I suppose.”  
The Followers’ leader nodded. Once. Slowly. “Perhaps, then, it is best you have these dreams elsewhere... before their results have more casualties than a pillar.”

As Zak waited for Gheist to bring the _Gray Pigeon_ around, he scoured his memory. It had been the Crypt... hadn’t it? Of course it had... but that was wrong. There was something else... something out there.

The thought squirmed from his grasp as he felt a strained pressure coiling about his shoulders.


	16. Interruptions and Excuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor comes to the Arcology. Mistakes are made.

「... Another Guardian is approaching, Zak.」  
「Approaching here? From... Where? Why?」

Wheeling DARCI off his back and aiming down the scope, the AI within cheerily chimed, |Avin Xurhil!| as she identified him from her databases. If he had blood to run out of his face, Zak would’ve gone sheet-white. As it was, he quickly lowered the rifle, slinging it across his back as he clambered down from his perch in the Arcology’s superstructure.

“I’m coming right back, Misraaks, don’t shoot him please.”  
“If you insist.”

Genuinely unsure if the Captain was simply adapting his sense of humor, or dead serious, Zak picked up his pace, boots scraping and splashing louder than he’d like through chitinous Hive growths and pools of stagnant water and gunk. There’d be attention coming this way before too long, but the Hive presence had been lighter and lighter as of late. Maybe they’d be lucky and they could thin the herd quickly when they arrived. Still, that was later. Now, Avin was walking into the Arcology, someplace Zak would have much liked the Warlock to never enter, all things considered. Whirling around a corner, Zak found Avin quickly raising his weapon in a panic at the noise, before he realized who he’d found, quickly pulling the barrel down and muttering, “You about got yourself shot, why were you running?” Quickly pulling Avin into a side hallway off the main conduit they were in as he heard the Hive chittering into the hall from where he’d come.

“Why are _you_ in the Arcology?”  
“Sloane told me this is where you disappear to. Cayde told me to ask Sloane.”

Scowling behind his helmet, Zak made a mental note to send them both a colorful letter, pulling the squared, rune-adorned pistol from his hip and getting it ready to fire.

“You are _not safe_ here, Avin, this place is crawling with Hive.”  
“... So you’re safe here, but I’m not? Really? That’s your angle?”  
“No, I-... Just... You goddamn fool. Okay. I’ve mapped this place. With help. You’ve just... walked in like you own the place! You-”

Interrupting himself with a snap-shot, a Thrall fell to the floor missing a chunk of its head, the radiolarian cylinder crackling quietly as he mutters, “Fuck, we’re made. Okay, follow me, and _do not_ under any circumstances deviate from the path, okay?”

They were far from that cavernous hall. It’d be very difficult to _accidentally_ roam that deep, right? He shook the thought from his head as Avin shot an Acolyte rounding the corner. Out of time, right. He took off quickly, glancing back to make sure Avin could match his pace. Loud, once again. But he knew someplace they could actually, properly hide, quiet down. Or at least match the noises of the massive, decaying structure in their movements. Firing on the run wasn’t something Zak had been made to do with a partner in a long time, and there were several times where Avin narrowly avoided taking yet another bullet from the Exo, but each and every time he managed to clear his aim, just barely.

It took them nearly half an hour to finally lose their tail, ducking into a hole in the superstructure and finding someplace to clamber further up, perching among the beams and catching their breath, reloading their weapons.

“... Should be fine... for now..."

Avin nodded, watching him (at least apparently, the helmet made it hard to tell) warily, before he put his weapons away, Zak following suit in short order. “... So why are you out here, Zak?” Ah yes, the question of the hour. The... stupidly reckless question of the hour. “Been meeting with a friend here... The one who saved me from this place after that Knight took a chunk out of me.” He could sense the confusion - whether or not he liked it, that bond had slowly, very slightly, mended - coming from the Warlock, and headed off the question with a raised hand. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but he’s an Eliksni Captain. Name of Misraaks.”  
“... Mithrax?”  
“No, _Misraaks,_ apparently that’s a common mistake.”  
“... How many Guardians has he talked to?”

Zak shrugged. “Dunno, haven’t asked. Just took it at face value.” The confusion was just getting more palpable. “... What have you been doing since... all that? Friends with a Fallen? That isn’t Variks?” Another shrug. “It’s been a long year... And... To be entirely honest, it’s a bit more than just... friendship. Don’t fall off the beam.” He had to remind the Warlock, after feeling the wave of disconcerted incredulousness. “It’s... It seemed like things were kind of... past repair with us.” Slowly doffing his helmet, Zak sets it on the beam, letting it balance there precariously as he lets Avin see his face. It felt like the best way to be having this conversation... at least, if it had to happen here. Relative best was still better than nothing. “I didn’t want that to come out later. Since you’re insisting on chasing me down... I figured it’d be best to just be done with it now.” Watching Avin mull that over, he’s somewhat surprised by the eventual nod that seems... almost accepting. “I don’t really... like it. But I guess it’s not my place to like it, is it?” Zak shrugged again. “For what it’s worth... I still love you. But... I can’t in good conscience stay with you after what I-”

“Please stop.”

Avin was so quiet Zak almost didn’t hear him, but the small interruption still managed to stop him dead in his tracks. The Warlock slowly pulled the helm from his head, setting it aside, and staring with intense eyes at the Hunter. “It’s not your place to decide that, is it? If you don’t love me, I’d understand that, but-”

Two guns immediately went skywards at the sound of something hard clacking against the steel above, though Zak’s fell quickly as he saw the shimmer of active camo, an Eliksni Captain slowly fading into view thirty feet above them.

「Am I interrupting something?」  
「... Sort of. But I’m glad you’re here.」

The Warlock’s gun followed the suit of the Hunter’s, albeit without its speed, as Misraaks jumped down a few rungs, landing more heavily now that he wasn’t trying to sneak.

「You hadn’t returned... I was concerned you’d found another Knight to trip in front of.」  
“Eia, ia..."  
“... So is this him, then?”  
“Yeah... Avin, this is Misraaks. 「Misraaks... this is Avin Xurhil.」”  
“... Interesting.” Avin seemed surprised by the Eliksni’s Common, but moreso, if less so than Zak, by what he said next.

“He says your name as he sleeps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters this week, cuz I felt like the last one wasn't quite enough to be giving you alone. More fun stuff is coming. Soon™


	17. Oldtown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time coming, this one. This inciting Incident, this was the thing that started off... so, so much development. It's spiralled so far beyond this point it's not even funny.
> 
> Almost funnier is that for the better part of a year I got the goddamn map's name wrong and it's stuck so firmly I can't fix it.

If an Exo could flush, Zak’s face would be brick red. As it was, his cheeks were rather suddenly illuminating the space, Gheist materializing nearby and curling his points, very plainly attempting not to break out laughing. The Captain, however, shook his head slowly as he noticed.

“It is not with longing he speaks. When your name arises, it is among nightmares.”

Zak blinked, before he realized, and turned his head away, almost able to feel Avin’s gaze falling back to him. “... The Deep Stone Crypt?” The Exo nodded. “Eia... yeah.” A look of confusion, as he turned to properly face him with careful effort. As his boots found new purchase on a nearby crossbeam, Avin leaned forwards slightly, Leshya reluctantly transmatting his helmet away to keep it from falling as Gheist did the same with his Guardian’s. “You said it was always peaceful for you... you were one of the lucky ones, right?” A slow nod, before a pained smile back. “... Not anymore.”

「What is… the Deep Stone Crypt?」 Blinking, and turning to face Misraaks, Zak mulled over how to put it. 「It’s... Exo are unique among humanity, in a few regards, but especially this. The Deep Stone Crypt is a tower. Every one of us knows it... and when we dream, it’s usually of making the journey to it. Thing is... most Exo see an army between it and them... I was lucky for a while. I just got to make it... now he’s standing between me, hole in his head and scar on his side every time. And I find _that gun_ in my hands again. I... haven’t made it to the tower since we met.」

Misraaks paused, looking between them, all the while Avin tilts his head a little. “You’re actually... speaking Eliksni.” Another nod from the Exo. “Learn by doing, all that. You should see some of the crews I’ve run with.” The rustling of the Captain’s cloak got his attention again, however, and pulled his attention back, the Hunter adjusting his own cloak somewhat instinctively. 「... I suppose the reason this happened, what your ‘bleak memories’ were, involved him, yes?」 Zak was doing an awful lot of nodding today. “Eia.” Slowly, silence settled again, before the Eliksni broke it, just barely. “What could have happened to cause all this?”

At the question, both Avin and Zak’s eyes drifted, the Exo’s mind returning to the Midtown arena… the Oldtown arena.

_“Woah, hey! Give me a second to get_ my _helmet on-”_  
“But death is what you’re after, isn’t it?”

Don’t fire. You can’t protect the dead.

His finger tensed. Actioned wrong.

“ Zak!! “

Thunder snapped through the streets from the crack of the shot as Bad News pitched backwards, Avin thrown backwards much the same as the single round took his now-limp body off-balance. It took a small eternity for it to fall, Zak’s eyes following him down through his visor as Leshya was forced to blink into view, shrinking back from the Hunter for the briefest moment, before he disappeared to resurrect Avin elsewhere. Something in him reloaded the cannon as Gheist appeared similarly before him, spines peeled back and spread.

[ / What are you doing?! What is this supposed to solve? / ]

There was no reply as Zak moved with purpose towards where he heard Avin’s resurrection. Gheist followed, visibly worried, disappearing back into his hiding spot as shots began to ring out anew. The Exo couldn’t explain why the gun kept going off. Couldn’t explain why his finger continued to depress the trigger. Just that it did, and it felt correct, felt wrong, felt like being pulled five ways at once as he moved in one. He had to protect him. Keep him away from the source of pain.

_So what was the point of all this?_

The pain wouldn’t stop. He’d keep running for it, unless he got scared. The pain wouldn’t scare him... this would. Would it? [ / Zak, please... / ] Gheist echoed in his ears, he pushed him away. This was the solution. It had to be.

Did it?

He didn’t realize he’d drawn back his arm. The Void didn’t flow for him. It fought, it rebelled against his hold. So he dragged it free. The shriek of the bowstring brought him back to the present for just a moment. _This is wrong. Not the way._ And as he faltered, so did his grip. The shriek of the arrow was punctuated by the shriek of the Warlock as it carved out a piece of his side.

Advancing slowly, the Exo Hunter slowly reloaded his pistol, closing the distance and pulling back the hammer. Looked down at the Warlock as he pulled back away from his weapon in a panic.

_WAKE UP._

Zak felt his hand begin to shake as some part of him finally snapped back into place. Registered what was going on. Tore him immediately to pieces as the tether’s twisted Light cried and screamed its discontent.

“... Avin... please run.”

The gun turned upwards, and for one moment more thunder filled the streets.

[ / ... I won’t resurrect him until you’re gone. Get out of here. Quickly. Please. / ]

Avin had never heard Gheist sound so desperate. And so, without word of query or caution, he pulled away from the fading tether and Blinked out of sight, running off to attempt to figure out just what exactly happened.

Letting Avin finish the recounting, the first time either of them had faced the full gravity of the Oldtown Incident since its occurrence, Zak glanced over to Misraaks, his expression presently so neutral as to be unreadable. As Avin finished, however, he sat up, gesturing for them to follow. Somewhat bewildered, they did, slowly descending through the superstructure, making their way through back tunnels and channels, around Hive corruption and inhabitation, Zak getting more and more nervous the deeper they strove...

Until they found themselves standing at the former site of a methane reactor.

“... Why here, Misraaks?”  
“Because, Hunter-Fool, you are dwelling on the past. And if he will not dwell on it, or will allow a chance for correction... every time you fail to take that chance, you fail him and yourself. And me.”

Zak barely caught the broadsword as it was thrown to him, the familiar blade crackling to life as Misraaks draw its partner.

“If you think yourself beyond saving, Hunter-Fool, then be struck down and fall. 「Or defy your past, deny it the chance to be your future.」”

The blade came up to parry Misraaks’ blow without conscious thought, Avin recoiling and reaching for his gun. In unison, both combatants intoned, “Don’t interfere.” Slowly, his fingers left the ancient grip, as sparks flew from blow after blow. Arc lanced from blade to blade, Zak ducking about his opponent, Misraaks attempting to cut off his. The shuddering echo of blows filled the arena, coupled with the occasional clatter of dusty Hive chitin being kicked about, or the squelch of an old puddle of bio-armature oil being introduced to a boot or claw. Strained respiration on both sides. The whine of servomotors and the clattering of armor on armor as they took and ceded ground.

But the fight ended, as so many had, with Misraaks driving his blade through his opponent’s chest, planting a foot on the Exo’s abdomen and shoving him off even as Gheist reappeared, quickly dragging the Hunter back to the world of the living.

「I’ve said it once, Zak-Fool, and I’ll say it again. We are warriors. We are not perfect, we are certainly not infallible. You have made mistakes. Grievous ones. But your past is past. And you can choose to continue to shape your future on the blade’s edge, clumsily cutting off more and more… or instead use the edge to cut away at that which would threaten that which you hold dear. Make a choice, Hunter-Fool, and make it fast. None of us know what waits around the corner.」


	18. Tethered

Sitting across from each other on old machinery and furniture on the Rig, near Sloane’s forward command post, Avin Xurhil and Zak-9 slowly appraised each other. Misraaks had left them to their own devices after seeing them out of the Arcology, with the unstated ultimatum of collectively sorting out their shit before coming back. No small task, by any estimation. So they found themselves opposite, thinking over their first questions and pondering who would have to break the silence.

In the end, it would be Zak.

“... What really made you come and see me in the forest?” Avin didn’t answer immediately. Zak hadn’t expected him to. But he didn’t seem nearly so off-put as the Exo had expected either. Maybe he’d anticipated the question. Or maybe he just knew none of the questions Zak could have would be easy. Given time, he eventually shrugs, and meets Zak’s eye with his own. “You’re... hard to drop. You might not believe me that I just missed you, but it’s the truth. But... I don’t know. That wasn’t all of it. Most of it, sure. But..." The Warlock sighs, scratching at the back of his neck with those clawed gloves. “... I think there’s something in me that knows whatever happened in Oldtown... it wasn’t. _You._ It might have had your worries, but... Even with your targets I never saw you that... furious. I guess... subconsciously, I never thought you could’ve repeated that performance.”

The Exo laughed weakly, shaking his head. “That’s a dangerous thing to think.”

“I still don’t think I’m wrong. So why do you?” The question stopped Zak’s soft, self-deprecating mirth dead in its tracks. Forced him to look back to the Awoken, see the single-minded determination to force free the answer to his question. The lone eye fell slowly, looking to the old service revolver he was turning over in his hands, cleaning the now-rust-free steel out of habit, as his true gaze turned inwards. “... Because I still don’t know _why._ I did it... I know the Thanatonautics was the trigger, because I wasn’t furious, I was scared. But I’ve been scared for you before... I don’t know what made this different. I really don’t. And I don’t trust myself to not lose myself like that again. Not with you. And I’d sooner return to the Light than hurt you like that again, Avin.”

As if on cue, Avin gripped his side, wincing notably, the timing seeming far too convenient, until Zak realized he could feel a distortion of his own Light bouncing across their half-mended bond. Reacting to his own distress and emotional turmoil. He didn’t know what had caused that backlash, even with that trigger in mind… but at least for now, he could try to make this stop. Setting the gun down, he moved towards the Awoken, pausing briefly as Leshya materialized nearby to scowl at him, but not stopping. Simply slowing down as he gently reached for Avin’s side. “What’re you-?”

“Don’t... I’m afraid I’ll mess this up without focus.”  
[ / So don’t do i- / ]  
“Leshya... please.”

The Warlock still trusted him. It was such a painful thing to hear, as the Ghost acquiesced to his Guardian’s request, floating into the ruff of the cloak - his old cloak still, he realized - and nestling among the cloth. Once settled, his optic reopened, glowering from his new position at the Hunter. He didn’t disagree with the Ghost’s distrust... but he wasn’t about to let this stand as it was. Curling his fingers gently around the Warlock’s side, he felt for the scarring he knew was there, and while he couldn’t see the extent of the remaining damage... he could feel it hadn’t healed an iota since Oldtown. He pushed back the knife stabbing at his heart. It wouldn’t do to lose his focus and make this worse. Instead, he began to ventilate, mimicking the biological process most Hunters would call “Box Breathing.” A long inhale. A long pause. A long exhale. A long pause. Three repetitions, time taken to recenter, before, as Avin seemed about to ask what he was planning, the Light flowed forth from his fingers. The Light in the wound was twisted, snarled up in the emotions that made the wound. Digging away at the Warlock constantly, but doing no real damage. Zak couldn’t excise it. Not here, at least. But he could at least do something to smooth out the knots.

The Void slowly suffused the room, the gentle sensation of weightlessness just barely present, not enough to let them drift, but enough to make things feel just that little bit off... all the while the spaces in that wound were filled with gentler stuff. The aching burn slowly replaced with a cooling numbness. Not the same, not as good as sensation itself... but better than the alternative nonetheless. It took time. It took patience. He could not take this too slowly, for even a touch too fast risked exacerbating the problem, and permanently at that. And above all, it took almost every last bit of Light Zak could muster this way. Whether or not he’d regained his control of it, he had not yet regained his capacity, the volume he’d pushed away in fear of ever having enough to use. And especially using it for so long, no matter how slowly it flowed, there was excess... Waste. The sensation of tingling filling the very air. But it wasn’t being poured into the wound. It was only getting its dressing with the greatest of care. Only the purest of Void to clean out the miasma of sickening fear.

When the job was done, Zak was glad for the nearby chair, flopping back into the cheap yet sturdy steel, and exhaling the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding for the past thirty seconds. Avin was hesitant to move, but as he did, his eyes went wide. “... It doesn’t hurt.” A nod from the Exo, albeit not much of one. “It won’t last... but it should keep the edge off for the immediate future, until you can get away from me again, get some distance.” Bristling, the Warlock shot back, “I’m not going to just disappear again, you said yourself we needed to-”

“Talk this out, yes, like I said you have some time. Just... less than I’d like.” He sat up as much as he was able, eventually settling for angling back with his head forwards, as he took his turn to stare through his conversational partner. “You wanna trust me in spite of all that, fine, I can’t stop you... I’d love to say I won’t help you trust me either but I can’t think of any other reason to have done that outside ‘the goodness of my heart.’ But at least tell me you understand the gravity of what I did, please? Because... I still don’t think that’s something I can be forgiven for. That I can be removed from. No matter how much I may or may not improve. So... how are you still okay with me, even if you don’t think it really was me? You’re still gonna have that scar, you’ll still be stuck with the memories. Just... Please tell-”

“Zak.”

Avin was quiet again. That intense, subdued quiet. The sound of the last enemy’s life force being torn out as Void Light as the fight came to a close. A painfully familiar quiet, in short. “You made a mistake... and yes. Yes it was a bad mistake, and I probably didn’t give it its due thought back then. And it’s really... _really_ fucked me up, even beyond just the scar, so yeah I’m absolutely stuck with the memories… But... I’ve been thinking about it ever since you asked me to back then. And... as much as it’s no small thing... it’s done with. If you’re just saying you love me to soften the blow, that’s fine, if you want me to leave, that’s fine too. But you feel like you’re committed with moving forwards, with fixing it, so... let me help you fix it. For both of our sakes.”

Silence stretched on for what felt like years. Would have been years, had the time scaled in the Forest, Zak reflected wryly as he realized how long it had been since Avin had stopped talking. But eventually, he forced himself to look back up again. Slid his gun across the table, and got back to cleaning it. The busywork lasted more than a little while, Avin’s frustration slowly etching itself into his facial features as silence droned on, until the Exo finally sighed. “... So long as we’re not just forgetting it happened... I guess that’d be a start. And… just for the record.”

He reached into the collar of the outer layer of his armor, slowly extricating something from beneath the cloth. A crystal on a pendant. The purple, Light-imbued stone was cracked, faded... but still in one piece. And still where he’d kept it near and dear ever since they’d made the pair together.

“If I was just trying to spare your feelings... I don’t know what I’d have done. But I’ve never lied to you, Avin. At least, not that I can remember. So if you’re gonna trust me not to hurt you, for some shitty, inexplicable reason... at least trust me not to bullshit you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've yet gotten around to mentioning this (and if I have... whoops!) but Avin isn't actually my character. He's primarily written by a friend of mine, [HeraldicMage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraldicMage/pseuds/HeraldicMage), and while the writing is mine all of this has passed by them for approval first. Part of the reason for the backlog, admittedly, was that I wanted to make sure I was getting things right. There's a few other characters relevant to this universe that belong to other people, and if they end up being more than names, and if their creators are fine with it, I'll start linking their profiles n such, but for now Avin's the only _major_ character I'm writing who isn't mine or canon's.
> 
> I should probably add the character credit earlier on in this if I haven't already...


	19. Right Side of Wrong

Misraaks could tell, as he found the pair waiting for him in the Arcology three days later, that an understanding had been reached. Settling in across from them, he turned his attention first to Zak-9, simply pointing one of his swords at the Hunter before beginning to clean it off. Exchanging a glance with Avin, the Exo coughed softly, clearing some jammed machinery in his pseudo-lungs, and slowly turned his attention back to the Eliksni.

「We’ve... come to an understanding. We still don’t agree on a few things. But... we’ve agreed to take what we do agree on, and what we’re willing to concede. And work from there.」

The Warlock’s eyes flitted between them. Zak could tell not being able to understand _exactly_ what was said was killing him, but at least Leshya was translating for him - he’d get the gist. Though, being honest with himself, Zak rather imagined Leshya would be very carefully translating everything he said. Trust in him was not something he saw the Ghost regaining anytime soon, and he’d be quite sure to keep Avin from being deceived “obviously,” of that the Exo had no doubt.

For his part, the Eliksni before them both took a moment to consider what Zak said, before turning the point towards Avin, who found himself somewhat taken aback, Leshya freezing up a little and starting to hurriedly go over translations with him, before he heard Misraaks chuckling.

“You needn’t translate for me… What the Hunter-Fool can learn from me, I can learn from him.” Swallowing nervously, Avin nodded, appraising Misraaks for himself for a few moments, before he finally spoke up. “At least we agree he’s an idiot. But... he was my idiot for a long time. And even if he’s... your idiot now, I still want him in my life.” While it took the Eliksni some time to respond, Avin slowly shrank back a little at the silence under his four-eyed gaze, before he nodded once. “Eia. Good. He could use more friends with two arms. I don’t think I’ve seen him with a single other Solarian since I’ve met him.”

“Now hold up, Misraaks never sees me around other humans because if other humans saw me with Misraaks, I’d have to stop them from shooting,” Zak interjected, actually looking a little hurt. “I haven’t been talking with people _as much_ lately, sure, but I spent two years without anyone but Gheist and the odd refugee to talk to, I’ve gotten used to solitude.”

“And it’s hurting you.”

Iron plates clamped shut as Zak tried to formulate a rebuttal. None was forthcoming.

“... I don’t mean to attack you, but you have to recognize your failings if you intend to improve.”

It took an unbearable amount of time to come to terms with the fact that the Captain was right, and an even longer time to simply nod in acknowledgement of the fact. “You’re... right. Yeah. Doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t see me with other humans unless you were spying on us.” There was a brief pause, before the Eliksni shrugged, eliciting an incredulous blink from the Hunter. “... You didn’t.”

“You seem to forget that however we cooperated in the beginning, we were - are - still technically part of enemy factions.”

If an Exo could blanch, Zak would’ve, but he at least immediately recognized that admission for what it was. “... Geez, today’s gonna be a headache to sort through later. But... yeah. I’ve got a ways to go. But I’m walking.” Misraaks nodded again. One could almost see the smile in his lightly-lidded gaze. “Good,” he murmured, before he turned his attention back to the Warlock. “I should like to know you well, Avin. I can see our fool is still dear to you... as you are very clearly to him. And whatever we have, I would not take offense at any further relationship you foster. The only thing I would ask in return is that we come to our own understandings. Is this agreeable?”

Watching with a slightly, if almost pleasantly, aghast expression as the exchange took place Zak’s attention moved from Misraaks to Avin, who looked almost as stunned. Who took a long time to simply meet the Captain’s eyes... before he nodded once. “Y-yeah. Just... give me some time to sort through all this.” The quiet nod was his only response as Zak bit his knuckle a little. Even he hadn’t expected that... and while it wasn’t unwelcome, it certainly complicated things even as it cleared them up.

Suddenly, he came to the realization - this was why the phrase “May you live in interesting times” was considered a curse.

* * *

Pleasantries and departures followed, somewhat awkwardly. There was still a lot of talking to be done, of course, but as ever, there was something to cut things short. Misraaks had to rendezvous with his crew to see what they’d found, and it gave the pair of Guardians cause to get moving again.

“Guess that means it’s back to Mercury.” Donning his helmet as he spoke, Zak paused as the seals hissed into place, immediately catching the unease in Avin’s expression. “... What is it about that place that does that to you? You looked like that when I left you at the gateway of the Forest.” The Warlock didn’t respond. Not at first. So he pressed. “Avin... Why is the thing that I’ve seen scare you most... the idea of me walking back into the Infinite Forest?” It was as if he’d pointed Bad News at his forehead all over again. It took everything he had to not simply drop the line of questioning there, to say “Nevermind,” and let it sink again. But as he saw the Awoken’s nose flare as he drew a long, hard breath, Zak-9 crossed his arms, and steeled himself for the answer. 

“... Because I know what the Vex can do. And I don’t want to forget you.”

Context brought back a small flood of painful flashes. Avin’s trip to Venus, on Zavala’s orders. His quiet return. The quiet weeks that followed.

The rumors of the ontological horror of the Vault of Glass.

Zak did not press the question further, stepping closer to Avin for a moment, and reaching out a hand. Pausing, stumbling over his own actions mentally, and stalling his actions in their physical form, before he settled for gently gripping the Warlock’s shoulder. Shaking it gently.

“Osiris rules the Forest now. And it’s been a useful tool.” The lie he told himself, to stifle the nightmares. “I promise you, I’m taking every precaution.” The feeling in the back of his mind as Gheist immediately disapproved. It wasn’t a lie… it just wasn’t true in fact, even if it was in intent. The guilt built, and he quickly resolved to _make_ it truth in fact. “It’s not as though I could leave you in the lurch now in good conscience anyrate.”

Etched into the Warlock’s face was the clear indication that his reassurances weren’t enough, not on their own. So he sighed, and let his hand fall. “There’s only one problem left for me to solve there... just a little more time, and I’ll have it. And I can stay away from it forever, once that’s done.” That helped little... but it helped. The lines in his face softened, just barely. Zak leaned in and rested his helm’s forehead on the Warlock’s.

“You don’t have to trust me on this one, my Light... I’ll be back within the fortnight.”

Something in Avin knew he was telling the truth.

Something else reminded him of how little that had meant for himself before Venus.


	20. Waking Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters this week. Last one felt a little too "light" to post on its own. That said, I am running out my backlog pretty fast, I've been busy and not had much time/energy to write lately. Gonna have to get on top of that again. Anyrate, I apologize for the lack of bug-smooching content lately, that'll pick up again. Got some story to get out of the way. In the meantime, also posting some other buggy content every now and again in another story I picked up writing out just to have some more concrete stuff nailed down for my Eliksni.

Within moments of his boots scraping the ground, before the _Pigeon_ could even swoop away post-transmat, Zak heard his radio crackling. Sighing quietly before he responded to the hail, he asked Gheist to take the ship back to orbit, before he propped his rifle up over his shoulder with one hand, the other tapping the side of his helmet out of habit more than anything else. “Helloo? Who’s the buzzing in my ear today?”

“Zacharius!”

Ah. Vance. “Just... Zak. Nothing that fancy.”  
“Really? A Guardian settling for such a simple name?”

Rolling his eye, Zak glanced towards the open gateway into the spire, debating simply ignoring this hail and heading into the Forest. “I didn’t tell you the wrong one when you finally asked what it was, Brother Vance.” He could hear the befuddled “hmph” on the other end of the line. “Well, regardless, I have a situation that requires your attention.” Slumping silently, doing everything he could to avoid a groan, Zak looked skyward for a moment, before closing his eye. 

“... What situation would that be?”  
“Please enter the Lighthouse. I cannot adequately explain without a diagram.”

Serious thought was put back into simply bolting for the Forest... But, as much as he had no interest in a diagram on Osiris’s theses on the stable paradoxicality of the Vex, he would likely need to at least see if it was something more important than that. Slinging Machina Dei 4 across his back again, Zak recomposed himself and stepped toward the gateway.

* * *

“... They found him, then?”

Laid out before the blind apostle and the Hunter was a diagram. A map of nexus points, laid out in the air above the Forge. A cause-and-effect map of the Infinite Forest. Influencing the architecture in such a way to find a very specific simulant future. Zak’s eye traced over the nodes, memorizing the physical route as well as taking note of some of the intriguing causal detours they’d require, even as Gheist saved the map for future reference.

“Indeed. Another prophecy was located that led to his location. I’ve been told you accidentally stumbled onto the bones of one during your research.”

He thought back, the many, many months spent in the compressed, simulant worlds below the surface. The lines he’d noticed he was tracing out, treading familiar ground as things began to fall into place. “... I feel like you’re giving me too much credit for finding a whole lot of nothing in the general vicinity of the solution. So... how do we get him out?”

Locking his eye on Vance, he watched him slowly lower his head.

“... Dead?”  
“I am... afraid so, Hunter. For some time, now.”

Sighing, the Exo lightly punched the edge of the forge, the cool stone not budging an ounce under the heartless amount of force behind it. “Should’ve figured, finding his ship like that... Alright. Well... at least we know now. Does the Vanguard?” Vance nodded once, moving back towards the center of the room slowly. “I believe Ezekiel has reported back, yes. Save Ikora Rey, I do not deal with the Vanguard directly if I can avoid it.”

Of course.

“... Well then. I have another stop to make, I suppose. You guys have any candles to spare?”

* * *

“It’s between these two iterations, right?”  
[ / Yep. You sure you wanna see this? /]

Moving through the triangular hallway, Zak checked his magazine, letting Gheist   
transmat a few fresh rounds in from his reserves before he slots it back into the rifle. “I have to see it. It’d... feel wrong to not.” Some part of him knew Saint didn’t have much to do with him... but that didn’t change what he’d heard about the stories. Didn’t change the fact that he’d hoped to meet the legend in person someday, running through simulation after simulation. He’d disappeared into the Forest... Alex had purported to see him, not terribly long ago. And yet...

As Zak trudged over the red-brown dunes, towards the aperture in the Vex architecture, he could already see the shrine within, left open by now. He could see some constructs off in the distance, observing him. Hobgoblins. Still well within range to hit him from their position. But they simply watched. [ / What do you think they’re doing over there? / ] Gheist didn’t bob into the open, but Zak could tell he could see them through his eye. “... Standing vigil, maybe?” Hesitantly, he saluted the constructs, before he moved through the entryway, toward the body in repose floating gently in the column of light. It really did look like they’d laid him to rest. Slowly slinging his rifle across his back again, Zak held a hand out as Gheist fizzled into view over his shoulder, checking the doorway quickly before taking the time to transmat some of the candles Vance had given him. There were already some waiting there. Long since burned down to waxen stumps. Zak set his own down near them, snapping at his fingers a few times, trying to get the sparks going. Nothing. Solar Light had never really cooperated with him... seemed today was no exception to that rule. Gheist helpfully dropped an old lighter into his hand. It had no fuel, but the flint still worked. Lighting the candles, with some difficulty, he let them melt a touch, before pouring the wax out of the top onto the floor.

Affixing them gently to the floor with the melted wax, Zak rose, sighing and crossing his arms. “... I’d really hoped to have something to say, here.” The response came, not from Gheist, but from something at the back of the room, the quiet chittering whoop of a Vex construct. Turning quickly and drawing his pistol, he leveled it at the Goblin... who remained still. Simply investigating him, its gun still pointed to the floor. His didn’t do the same, but he didn’t fire, pulling the hammer back slowly, but keeping his finger slightly back in the trigger guard. After a few minutes of tense standoff, it blinked to the side, and assumed the statuesque position the Goblins before the Lighthouse tended to take when they were idle.

“... Did you put him to rest here? Did... was this really some sort of shrine?”

His question went unanswered. The construct seemed inert once again. Everything in his brain told him to put a round through the juicebox. Instead, he gently lowered the hammer, and holstered the weapon. “... Thanks, I guess. For not shooting me.” Before the construct could’ve had time to shoot even if it made moves to, Zak disappeared, purple-black smoke filling the air where he was as he ducked for the exit.

* * *

Deep in the Arcology once again, Zak ducked past the Eliksni Captain as he fled the onslaught of Hive. No Exo was being carried out over his shoulder today. It was a simple, hasty retreat. A poor sign, by all accounts. But not one he was unfamiliar with. One of those seeds. Returning, as ever, to the great hall littered with Hive, he saw a pair of bodies in the middle. Two Guardians. Or what was left of them. Hands clasped around the hilt of a destroyed sword, shattered Void crystal in the center, with massive spines of Void Glass radiating out from the epicenter of their Light burning out. Always something of an oddity to see one’s own corpse. But by now he was used to it.

“Gheist.”  
[ / On it. / ]

Time paused. At least, for the world. For Zak, he was free to move about. Not that he had much moving to do. They just had to get keyed in. “Take it back twenty minutes.” Time spun back, a horde of Hive entering in reverse from the way he’d came, then an Eliksni strike team, lead by a familiar Captain. Then it stopped again. “Ten more.” The firefight broke out in reverse. In short order, the Eliksni retreated through a hole in the wall, which blew out in reverse, putting itself back together, one shard at a time. Then the Hive slowly retreated into their own burrows, scavenging backwards through the Light spires... as the last of them disappeared, the crystals began to glow. And then, it happened.

The Conflagration.

Violet flames began to lick at the edges of the crystals, which began to glow vibrantly, the flames spreading inwards, in reverse. The Light grew brighter and brighter, until soon the Void flames had engulfed the whole of the room. It was impossible to see the crystals becoming un-made, but as the blaze of amethyst flames receded rapidly, the Hive that had been caught in them were visible forming out of their own ashes. At the flashpoint, however, time came to another halt. A brilliant, purple orb was all he could see amidst the thronging horde.

“Gheist..."  
[ / You don’t need to watch this part again, Zak. Please... move on. / ]  
“... Just one more time, Gheist. Please. Play it again.”

Rusted green spikes slowly pinched together around the Ghost’s vibrant blue optic. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion. He was terrified, as with the last times, it wouldn’t be the last. But he couldn’t just let this happen again. Zak didn’t need to see this... it wouldn’t do him any good. Wouldn’t show him anything he didn’t already know.

[ / Zak... / ]  
“... Please.”

Time began to flow backwards again. The glow disappeared. As a Knight’s cleaver fell towards them, and a group of thrall lunged, almost frozen in midair, the pair clutched the hilt of Dark Drinker, the sword’s blade snapped above the hilt, and the cracks in its crystal shining with the brilliance of the Void. A broken stag helm let Avin meet Zak’s eye through his own shattered visor.

[ / ... You don’t know that this will happen, Zak. / ]  
“... And I don’t know that it won’t, either.”  
[ / Zak, _please_ stop this... You’re- / ]  
“Yeah. Yeah, I know what I’m doing. Just... take it back further. Twenty minutes.”

Not allowing him to stop and dwell on each passing second this time, his Ghost snapped them back. Their arrival in the room. Avin’s arm was around Zak’s shoulder. They were both limping, carrying their weapons in one hand. Battered and bloodied. Leshya was tucked into Avin’s collar, looking weakened. Gheist’s shell was shattered, four of the points missing, and his optic half-lit through cracked glass as he hovered weakly along behind them. Zak finally moved, walking towards the pair, then past them. Into the throng of Thralls flushing them out of cover. He continued. Gheist - _his_ Gheist - slowly wound time back, giving him snapshots of where they’d been so he could follow. Knowing better than to stop on anything, or keep things moving so he could _find_ someplace to stop, his Ghost was careful with what he showed. Eventually, however, they met the same stumbling block that had stumped them far too many times before now.

[ / ... And from here, it’s static. I can’t find where you split from. / ]  
“Take us forward a few seconds... just to clear this junk up.”

Before Zak was a fork in the hallway, overgrown by Hive viscera-chitin, as with much of the Arcology... but also full of very literal static, Vex digital architecture laced over the snowstorm of a bad TV set. A structure even he couldn’t pass through, yet. As Gheist let time progress, however, it slowly cleared, revealing the hallways beyond to be clogged with Hive. It was to be expected, but that made the static all the more puzzling.

[ / I still don’t understand why that happens... / ]  
“I have... an inkling. But it doesn’t make much sense. The Vex can’t… simulate Light. They can simulate what it can do, but the thing itself, it gives them trouble, right? Destabilizes the simulation... so how can they simulate what happens in that hall?” Hand on his chin, Zak stared intently past the hobbled pair frozen before him, into their two possible origin paths. Into the infinite possibility of choice.

[ / I keep saying you don’t know whether or not this is going to happen... Why would this be the case if the Vex can’t simulate your Light? How is this anything but another hypothetical? / ]  
“Because, Gheist... the Vex _did_ simulate our Light. So they could there... which means there’s some temporal basis. But they can’t simulate what happens here..."

Clarity crystallized on a word. Quickly, Zak took off down one hallway. Checked the floors. Static surrounded bits of Hive chitin that weren’t quite gone. The barest hints of what he could see suggested Void burn. The work of one of his own grenades.

“... They could only simulate our Light in that moment. This... was still beyond them. But there’s still a before and after... Gheist, can you track the instability on these traces?”  
[ / In... theory, yes. / ]  
“Do it. I think we’ve finally found the trail.”


	21. Martyr's Maker

“Is this consistent across iterations?”  
[ / We’ll have to find another one to be certain, but running the simulations in miniature for myself, yes, this is where you ‘fizzle out’. / ]  
“More or less the same time every time?”  
[ / Yep. / ]

After half an hour of tracking anomalous instabilities across the Arcology, Zak-9 and Gheist stood in a small lab, amidst the remnants of a dozen or more Thrall, shattered sample tubes, and broken down machines... and the signs of a small campsite. This. This was the spot from which they’d been routed. The odds were good this room was the last place they’d be able to find themselves if they wound back through the static. A risk. A hefty risk.

“... Do it.”

Gheist didn’t ask if Zak was sure. He knew the answer, even if it would be a lie. Instead, he began. The world was quick to dissolve around them, the simulation’s instability taking over the whole of the area in moments. True to expectations, it hurt. Zak had to loop his own Light into his Ghost just to receive the Light he’d need to heal in return. But, thankfully, it didn’t last long. To move back the requisite twenty minutes took only as many seconds, and Zak saw what had caused the first of the glitches in the system. Watching the snowstorm peel back, clearing his vision and his sensors, he checked to make sure Gheist was okay, before gesturing to slow down as things came into sharp focus. Thralls were coming out of the walls, the ceiling, Sprinting down the hallway, and clawing up the floor from beneath. The escape route they’d followed to get here was now a door, half-ajar, a lone Thrall swiping through it. He and Avin stood back-to-back, among the machinery and samples - some more intact, he noted, than “prior” - each holding their hand into a clawed shape as the telltale signs of gathering Light caused instability between their fingers. The source of the initial static burst.

“... They’ll find us here... and chase us all the way down.”  
[ / You talk as if it’s a certainty. / ]  
“It was... then again, now that I know this... Gheist, take snapshots of this. Wind it back until the first of them disappear, and make notes of where they come from. Where in the Arcology is this...?”

As he mulled over the question with Gheist, he watched the frozen time capsule around him, pondering the situation as it jumped back a few moments further every few minutes while Gheist completed his scans.

“... And what the hell were we doing in here?”

Hours of searching told him not much at all. There wasn’t enough of whatever was here to make out what they might’ve been down here _for,_ and with their point of entry unclear, it was hard to tell if they came here under a different sort of duress. Rewinding further, Gheist had cautioned, was causing more instabilities than the simulation could sustain. So they were stuck here. That didn’t make it a total wash - they could at least chart the area, and take notes of every possible avenue of approach and escape - but it didn’t tell him enough.

“... We’re not finding anything else here, are we?”  
[ / I doubt it. Let’s get out of here. We’re in here so deep at this point that it’ll be easier to just tear the sim open and let it collapse while we jump through the fold. / ]  
“Yeah... Just play it safe. Make the hole big.”  
[ / ... That’ll make it... more unstable. / ]  
“Yeah, but it won’t try and cut me in half if I don’t have to crawl through it.”

Taking the point, Gheist tore a big goddamn hole in the fabric of the simulation.

Jettisoned violently from the front gate of the forest, Zak tumbled to a halt, hearing the sounds of confused Cabal above him and instinctively reaching for his gun. The ancient revolver rose, hammer slid back with the drag of the trigger.

- _Clack._ -

The weapon was already on its way to the floor as instinct took over. No time to reload. No time to go for a rifle. His hand slid behind his back, gripping the burnt handle of the far more ornate Golden Age hand cannon. He didn’t have time to draw before shots rang out. The Legionnaire about to drive a spike through his chest toppled over, head eradicated with the thunderous crack of a far less burnt, exactly-as-ancient weapon. Twisting out from under the falling corpse, Zak reached for his rifle instead as Gheist placed the dropped revolver back in its holster. He wouldn’t need the cannons anymore.

Wire rifle shots tore through Cabal and rapidly-encroaching Vex alike, eradicating Radiolarian juice-boxes and oil-laced breathing masks alike, the crack of the cannon joining in with a slower, heavier cadence. The pulse rifle Zak drew was loaded, and he knew it before he even pulled the trigger. Balanced backwards. Tubing alight with fresh Radiolaria. The triplet crackle joined the symphony within moments. Each fresh shot, he took a moment to survey the arena, before acquiring a new target. The shimmer of Eliksni active camo was visible on the angular-yet-circular ridge that surrounded the massive conflux between them and the Lighthouse. He caught glimpses of a shifting blue robe tinted indigo, wreathed in Void Light as the blue and gold of the cannon whirled with its owner.

And with the new sound of electrified blades tearing through a group of Legionnaires attempting to flank him, he found Misraaks clearing a path.

“What the hell is a sight for sore eyes like you doing here?” It was something of a crapshoot, trying to talk in combat without a radio link. Fortunately for most Guardians, Zak especially, considering his tendency to not quite think about such things, their Ghosts could act much more quickly than they could manually establish a line for themselves. “Hunter-Fool’s Warlock Fool worries almost as much as he does. Came for help, to drag you out of the Forest.” [ / I told them both it was a waste of time, but no one listens to me. / ] It was about as much as he deserved from Leshya, but it didn’t make it any less jarring to hear suddenly intruding on the conversation. Taking the path Misraaks cleared for him, and dumping a burst of lead into a Cabal’s oxygen compressor as it advanced on Avin, the Hunter slid in behind the Warlock, the familiar rhythm of their combat coming as naturally to them both as breathing. Stepping about each other, trading targets, covering avenues of approach outside the other’s comfortable engagement range. Had he the time to think about anything but the fight, Zak would’ve been worried by how naturally this simply... flowed.

At least it came as small comfort that Misraaks seemed to flow with them about as well. He always seemed to know where to be, carving through enemies distracted by, or advancing on, the Guardians in the middle of the melee, never spending too much time engaging one target when an allied gun was ready to take the last shot. One hobbling cut here, a lethal slash there, keeping space clear and on the move, surprisingly hard to target for being as large as he was. Between the three, and the small cadre of Marauders keeping overwatch, the fight only lasted a long few moments. Echoing across the barren surface, the last ringing cracks of gunfire faded into the background, and as the last of the Cabal and Vex alike slowly twitched their last, weapons slowly slid lower. Never quite out of ready position, but at least guns weren’t actively being sighted anymore. Fingers could leave triggers. Just for the moment.

“... I’ll give you this, Zak... you’ve got one helluva taste in partners.”

Almost letting himself laugh as the Warlock broke the fading silence, the Hunter turned to look at his once - and maybe, just possibly future - lover, sighing slowly as the tension left his metal bones. “Yeahp... always have.” Turning his attention from one to the other, Zak looked up to meet Misraaks’ gaze as he approached, slowly sheathing his blades. “So, are you two getting along well enough, then?” Answering at first with a long, slow nod, Misraaks’ attention was almost immediately pulled over Zak’s shoulder. “Don’t let the Captain fool you, by the way, the concern seemed pretty mutual.” At that, he couldn’t stop himself. Covering his mouth - or about where it was on his helmet - with a hand, Zak stifled a few of the initial snorts, before he broke, raspy cackling escaping him for a few moments before he felt his ventilation getting rough again, forcing himself to stop to slow down some processing, and sighing as he sat down, looking between the two. “I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do with either of you at this point, but I know I’m gonna start by saying thanks for the welcome back party.” Resting his rifle across his lap, Zak situated himself on a Minoaur’s corpse, before he eventually mused, “You can both rest assured, though. That was the last of it. I found all I needed, I can leave it behind for now.”

Misraaks simply nodded, but the Awoken still seemed... wary. Pulling his helmet off, he stared pointedly at the Exo, who returned the gesture and smiled softly up at him. “I mean it. I’m done going in there. I can’t promise forever, because... let’s be honest, I don’t think my life’s gonna be that short, and we’re Guardians. It’s kind of the job description, ‘fuck with the Vex, keep the Traveler safe, stumble into a war with the Cabal...' But for the time being, for the distantly foreseeable future... I’m back. To stay.”

For what seemed like hours, the silence was only broken by the gusting of solar wind over the dusty surface of the planet.

[ / ... I’m _sure_ it’s a fantastic idea to trust you on that. / ]


	22. Arcology's Edge

Raindrops created a soft, echoing facsimile of a cadence as they fell upon the Rig, the metal gathering that sort of shimmering sheen it always collected when the sky decided to open up. It was an oddly pretty thing, the Exo reflected, as he pulled his hood around his helmet more closely, the purple cloth rustling between his fingers for a moment before his attention turned back to the sword in his hands. The broad, tracery-adorned blade had finally been more or less repaired, but he could see the telltale hairline fractures in the Void Light crystal at its base. He hadn’t managed to fully coax those out yet. Turning it over in his hands, the Hunter reflected on the mangled state he’d found it in, rummaging through the debris of the tower. Searching for something, anything of his old gear that might’ve survived. What he wouldn’t have given to have had the sense to have stored it somewhere, anywhere else. One of his bolt holes, the apartment that had survived the war _mostly_ unscathed... but he’d left it in the vaults. He’d thought it would be safe there.

At least it survived intact enough to repair.

Watching the reflections in Dark Drinker’s blade as he turned it over, Zak found himself somewhat lost in thought... until he heard a sharp crackling, and saw sky blue light shining off the sword in his hands. He whirled just in time to catch the Arc-wreathed broadsword as it cleaved down towards his head, his footing slipping for a few moments before his boots found purchase on the slick decking. Behind the sword, an enormous Eliksni shimmered out of camouflage. A Captain. Not _his_ Captain. He wanted to speak up, to attempt parley. But there was already another sword coming. Dropping one hand to his hip, forced to lean back as his sword was pushed closer to him by the lack of support, the Hunter managed to get his combat knife out of its sheath just in time to catch the blade, wincing as the Arc energy lanced into him briefly as the sword discharged into the less-insulated blade.

「Who... the fuck... are you?!」

Something the Exo thought might’ve been surprise flashed in the Captain’s eyes as he spoke their language, and in that brief moment of distraction, Zak twisted his knife around the lower sword, plunging the blade into the back of their hand. Letting out a pained growl, they recoiled, giving the Exo some room to move, jumping backwards and finding fresh footing a few feet away. He realized too late that he’d just jumped closer to the edge of the platform, but he held his ground as the Captain investigated the wound. He hadn’t gone for major damage... if there was a _chance_ at diplomacy, he didn’t want to write it out altogether, but he wouldn’t have been able to hold that block. Something had to be done.

「... An interested party.」

Negotiations were still on the table it seemed. Thinking about it, it was far from the environment he’d like to negotiate in. And that was before Dregs and Vandals started shimmering into view on the platform around them, forming a semicircle and hemming them in. But... it was better than nothing, he hoped.

「I am flattered, but also taken. And I can’t think of any great reasons for anyone to be interested in little old me.」

Flicking across their form, his eye took in everything it could even as he quipped, noting how their stance shifted at his words, watching their grip adjust on their blades. They were leaner-seeming than Misraaks, but he’d long since learned that, much like humans, Eliksni could be far more muscular than their exterior would imply. Something he definitely felt was the case here after being forced to hold their blades at bay. Their stance was also lower, there was a touch less of the pride or pretense. But there was something to replace it - a sort of wired readiness. They were not going to be taken off guard by any attempts at trickery, he noted, keeping a firm grip on his sword as he slowly sheathed his knife.

「I hope you are not trying to get me to let slip my intent. A Guardian cannot be trusted at their presentation, rarer still at their reputation.」

Read like a book. The obvious approach was out, not that he’d expected much from it. Filing away the odd turn of phrase they’d finished with for later, Zak noted that this Captain’s voice was just a touch on the raspy and airy side. Impressions said they might actually be she, but this was hardly the time or place to be asking. Or thinking about that. She might still be waiting for the chance to stab him with his guard down, at the end of the day.

「Look, you can’t just try and stab me and expect me to trust your intent without knowing it.」The rasping laugh that escaped her sent a soft shiver down Zak’s spine, even as she responded.「Really, it was more of a cut. And that doesn’t change the fact that my intent is not meant for your ears just yet, lost little Light. Come on, Traveler-Thief.」Raising one of her broadswords, she runs the spine along the other, Arc energy lancing out and illuminating her face for a moment as she issued the challenge.「Face me. Or I’ll allow my crew to do their work.」Eye roaming across the small legion of Fallen surrounding them, taking inventory of their weaponry (nothing overly impressive, a few shock pistols and wire rifles, thankfully no scorch cannons or anything of that heavier make), Zak thought on it. He could try to draw. But she only had about twenty feet to close, and no doubt also had shielding. Even if he got her crew, those swords would find their mark before he could turn his attentions to her. And if he tried to shoot her, at the expense of ignoring her crew... 

Sighing, the Exo spun Dark Drinker in his hand, and stepped forwards, bracing up his grip and praying his sparring with Misraaks wasn’t going to fail him here.

Her first attack was brutal, a crossing lunge that he narrowly caught with his blade, forced to step aside to avoid the brunt of her weight. Forced onto smoother plating, his footing became less steady, and even as he hopped backwards, he heard the chittering mocking of their audience, coming to a halt just in time to catch another swing, twisting his blade to catch two offset swings and shoving his way under her arms. Elbowing her in the side, his footing gave way, boot sliding across the smooth deck and dropping him to the floor even as one of her secondary arms grasped for him. A stroke of luck, for good or ill, he quickly turned his weight and rolled back to his feet at her side, using the motion to swing wide. While she caught the blade with her own, she still gave ground as the imitation of the heir of Willbreaker hissed through the air. He had room to recover. Kicking to his feet, Zak took some ground back, taking his chance to advance on her rather than the other way ‘round, and tensing up at an incoming defensive swing.

Slamming into his side, the flat of Dark Drinker caught the worst of the blow, twisting the blade in his grip, but failing to dislodge it, and giving him some momentum he could use. Twisting his body with the swing, one of his feet slid, but this time as it left the floor, he dragged it up, using the force from her own swing as a catalyst, and kicking off the air to reposition. His leg looped around her side, and the other was quickly brought knee-first into her thigh, a clumsy attempt to force her off-balance. Once again, she ceded ground, stumbling away as he used the hard plating of her exoskeleton to negatively distribute the force of the impact in his favor. Another kick off the air carried him straight to his feet, but also brought him to the ring of Fallen surrounding him, one immediately ramming their shoulder into his back and knocking him off kilter all over again... and forced him to stumble after the Captain. This time, he wasn’t prepared for the counterattack, one of those Arc-laced blades striking down even as he hastily attempted to roll out of the way. Catching his forearm, Zak bit back a pained yell as it dug in, quickly twisting away and lashing out with a spin attack. He’d bought space once again... at the cost of once again being forced to cede metaphorical ground.

There was no time to directly survey the damage, but from the pain signals and the fact that he could hear his fingers’ artificial musculature straining and grinding on itself, it wasn’t good. Shaking out the worst of the residual Arc energy, he spun the blade in his hand again, using the motion to check the crystal. Light dimming. Cracks spreading. Time running short. Shorter still with every hit exchanged as metal clanged off metal, and they danced along the edge of the platform. Any ground he managed to gain came at the expense of a risk he couldn’t quite recover from, and lost him more time. More strength lost to his wounds. Rather than block her next strike, he opts to dodge again, more readily this time. Attempt a counterattack. Met with resistance he could not overcome, Zak ceded ground again. His footing was getting worse, as his footwork got sloppier atop that, and he knew his arm was only getting worse as he forced it to cooperate enough to support a block. He could see the damage through his cleft gauntlet, could see the small flood of blue oil. He was in a bad way. And this wasn’t the kind of situation Gheist would survive long in, surrounded by Arc weaponry. A thought driven from his mind as the heel of his boot slid off the edge, forced back by the Captain’s barely-stopped blow.

His eye fixed on hers as she pushed her blades into his own, his arm whining and sparking as components began to fail outright. And then he heard the crackling, as Light began to spill from the failing crystal. He was pushing the sword too far. This had to end, and fast, or this was going to end irreparably. Biting back the pain, he reached into the Void, searching for the fletching of one of his arrows, even as he gripped the hilt of Dark Drinker. Grasping at them both, the blade disappeared under a steeped, violet light, and in a swift motion, Zak brought his arm up, pushing the already-mangled forearm into her blades and bearing the electric pain even as he pulled his blade back, and hurled it at the decking behind the Captain. From the cracks in the crystal, brilliant lances of Void Light spilled forth, twisting about each and every one of the Captain’s crew, even as a bolt of the web latched onto her. Watching them all crumple under the strain of the Light’s sapping suppression field, Zak twisted his mangled arm off her blades, and drew his knife again, putting the edge to her neck and looking her in the eyes through his visor.

「... If you’ve any decency, don’t make me kill you. Yield.」

The slow nod of her head caught him quite off guard, but before she could finish, she’d dropped her blades, pulling her hands back in a gesture of surrender. Pulling the knife away slowly, the tethers receded into the sword, the stolen energy eking into the cracks. Sealing the worst of them somewhat. Keeping the crystal intact another day, at least.

「He wasn’t wrong about you... You really do have an odd sense of honor to you.」

Trying not to look confused through his visor, Zak slumped back against a shipping container as the Captain got to her feet, slowly kicking her broadswords away as her crew, now far quieter, lowered their weapons in kind.「Thanks... I think. Who’s ‘he?’」Another chuckle. She seemed to have a good sense of humor at least.「Who else, Zak-Nine, Idiot Hunter?」

Ah.

「... Usually Misraaks just calls me ‘Zak’, now.」  
「Eia, perhaps. But your full title is far more amusing.」Moving over to him, she offered a hand. He took it, and she hefted him upright, letting him lean on the crate.「My name is Nyktaas. And he wasn’t lying, you do go to pains you really could do without to avoid lethal blows... With a move like you just pulled, why didn’t you just stab me?」If he had to think about it much, Zak knew he might pass out, so as he finally let Gheist wordlessly pop out of his “backpack” to tend to his arm, Zak muttered,「Same reason you lot didn’t just shoot me dead, I imagine... Interested party and all. I-」

「Captain, more Traveler-Thieves approaching!」

Zak and Nyktaas both snapped their gaze to the same spot, where the Vandal directed, towards the command center. A Warlock, sprinting their way. Trailing Void like a burning man trails fire. And wearing a familiar, capreoline helmet.

“「Don’t shoot him!」Avin, don’t! Don’t, they’re fine!”

Stopping short of hopping the railing, the Warlock stared down at the group, the glowing eyes of his helmet affixed on the lot of them for a few moments before he hurdled it anyways, kicking off it and into the air before he blinked into the midst of the group, gaze clearly going from Captain to Hunter before he stared more pointedly at Zak.

 _[... Please tell me you’re not dating_ two _Fallen Captains. Especially not one that’s gonna cut you up like that.]_

Laughing weakly, and earning a confused look from Nyktaas, Zak shook his head, though he winced as Gheist finished his work with a quiet, judgemental tilt, vanishing into his pocket again as Zak tested his fingers to make sure they were more or less functional again.

_[Friend of Misraaks’, apparently... no romantic involvement. Promise.]_

As the words echoed across their link, Avin visibly relaxed somewhat, though his gaze soon caught the sword embedded in the decking, and he froze up a bit again. “... I thought those were..." Nodding, Zak grunted, “Lost? Mostly were. Went scavenging. Didn’t find the other, unfortunately.” A long pause was punctuated by the quiet drizzling of rain, and, Zak noted, the sounds of active camo units popping into life, most of Nyktaas’ crew shimmering out of view as she gathered her dropped weapons, before turning her attention to Dark Drinker as well. Pulling it from the deck, Avin didn’t even have time to protest before she threw it to Zak, the Exo barely managing the catch.「I expect a better fight next time, Hunter. I don’t work make a habit of working with Guardians, but Misraaks spoke highly of you. You’ve got a lofty reputation to live up to.」Nodding to the Captain, Zak crossed his chest with the sword, Nyktaas returning the gesture with a raspy chuckle before disappearing herself. Leaving him alone with Avin in the rain.

“... What was that all about, then?”  
“Being honest? I don’t quite know.”

* * *

Cooped up and waiting for Misraaks in their little pocket of the hollowed out Arcology superstructure, Avin ran his fingers along the cracked crystal, investigating it carefully and only looking up as muted footfalls resonated through the girders around them, just barely preceding the Captain’s ( _his_ Captain this time, Zak noted warmly) arrival through the hole in the ceiling of the old maintenance area.

“I hear you met a new face today.” As Avin turned his attention back to the sword, Zak caught his eyes flitting up to the Captain on occasion, unable to quite read what was running through his head with his focus so firmly on the crystal of the sword, and his own focus on Misraaks. “Yeah, bit sudden, but... apparently she knows you. Could’ve just introduced us.” Laughing softly, the Eliksni shook his head, sitting down and pulling out his blades, beginning to clean them off as he rumbles, “Nama, not her way. She prefers... ‘non-tainted’ impressions, I think is how you would put it.” Snorting, and rubbing his eyepatch a bit out of habit, Zak rolled his eye just a touch. 

“A little forewarning, at least? She almost took my head off.”  
“Made a pretty good attempt on taking your arm too,” Avin chimes in quietly, eyes fixing back on the sword quickly, though Zak caught the faintest glance at his face before the Warlock could hide it. Letting his chuckling trail off into a soft, amused rumble, Misraaks shook his head, before he pulled the Exo closer. “You seem to forget the first time we spoke, I put my sword through your chest, even if I admittedly had a point to make. We’ve long since learned you Guardians don’t die so easily. Even if you scar sometimes.” Zak’s head turned, trying to hide his eyepatch out of instinct as Misraaks brought it up. He’d come to accept the damage as being… well, part of his normal. But sometimes, it still felt like a mark he didn’t want to show the Eliksni. Didn’t want to show Avin. And yet, the Captain turned his head back gently, before pulling that eyepatch away. “Have you still not attempted to fix this? As much as I feel it has its charms... You surely could have it repaired if you wanted, yes? Does it not make it harder to see? I must confess, it is hard to imagine having a mere two eyes, let alone one.” Nodding slowly, Zak sighs, trying not to look away. It was difficult, to say the least. “You... it’s... it’s not just a scar. Hive swords do weird things with our Light. Even if I repaired this... with the sort of injury it is, it wouldn’t ever properly work.” Misraaks nodded slowly, running a finger along the lower edge of the scarring. “... It’s an odd thing, isn’t it? To be immortal, but have such scars?” Zak nodded slowly again, leaning into the Eliksni’s side and rumbling, “Just reminders... good and bad.”

Quite content to lie there, his remaining eye closed (insofar as an Exo’s eye can close, at least), Zak didn’t make to pull away until he heard rustling, and felt Misraaks sitting up a bit, turning his head to see Avin kneeling down next to them. In his hands, still, was Dark Drinker. The crystal repaired. “... How’d you...?” Avin just shrugged. “I just remember how we made them... You left enough Light in it to fix the worst of it. So it was just a matter of filling in the cracks.” He could feel Misraaks leaning closer to investigate the blade himself, Zak taking it gingerly as Avin offered it, before he flinched as Avin, too, rested a thumb on the scarring on his face. “And for what it’s worth... he’s right. You do have a certain dashing charm with a scar.” As much as Zak wanted to protest, he was too taken aback by what Avin did next to do much but sit stock still.

Tracing his thumb up the edges of his mangled facial plating, Avin’s Light began to swirl about his hand, sharp edges suddenly smoothed and dulled as the Void pulled away what needed to be gone. Cleaned away old, cracked paint and grime. And began to swirl within the by now rather old fresh wound. The odd, sparking twitch he expected from bad sensory transmission in the area slowly faded into the background noise of his head, before disappearing altogether, as the Void began to coalesce. The cool-burn feeling that preceded the almost blissful numbness made the Exo shiver, but the small, intent stare he got becalmed him again, Misraaks doing his level best to stay still himself even as he watched with rapt interest. Slowly, the aches and pains of mangled or missing sensory arrays faded... and he was left with an almost wonderful, in an odd, contravening sort of way, feeling of the mangled eye finally being properly gone. As Avin pulled his hand away, Zak reached up out of instinct, only to hear the soft clink of metal meeting crystal as he tried to reach into the scar.

“... The sword was good practice,” the Warlock eventually admits, as Zak realizes what he’s done. “If you’d like, I can take it out, but-” He stopped as the Exo shook his head, a soft smile (or the best he can make of one) breaking across his features. “What I need from it’s still there. What I could do without is gone. I’d not have it any other way.” Pulling Avin close, Zak would rest his forehead on the Awoken’s, before he feels Misraaks shifting again, gently rubbing Zak’s shoulder even as he reaches over him to rub at Avin’s head in a wordless gesture of appreciation and thanks. The tinge in his cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed, but after a brief pause to breathe and recollect, the Warlock murmurs, “Mithrax told me that’s not all of it, so... if the rest of it’s as bad, I can... have a look at that too.” Nodding slowly, Zak considers it, but between the sword and his eye... 

“Not right now... you shouldn’t push yourself too far on my account. But... thank you, Avin. Down the line... I’d like that.” Avin seems about ready to respond, when he’s abruptly picked up by the Captain, pulled up against him in kind as he wraps them both in his cloak. Confusion on both of the Guardians’ parts was quickly pushed aside as the Eliksni began to rumble contentedly, setting his work aside and holding them both against himself. Both of them had questions - “Why, exactly?” was a priority for them both in that regard - but it felt... wrong, to interrupt this moment. So neither did, and in time, questions faded into contentment. Letting his fingers roam across Misraaks’ sparsely-armored torso, Zak felt the Eliksni returning the favor, and as he felt Avin’s hand cross over his own, he squeezed it gently, even as the Awoken gave to, and received from, the Captain attention of his own. Terrified of disturbing the moment, Zak slowly grew still, his fingers gently roaming his partners the only motion he displayed. Taking in the feeling of Avin’s cooler body shifting with his breathing, of the much slower rise and fall of Misraaks’ exoskeleton as ether cycled through his rebreather. Of the thin layer of cloth wrapping the latter, and the thicker coat and armor of the former.

Felt safe as he pressed himself into them both, a rare feeling as of late.

A heavy hand rested gently on his head, Zak letting his eye crack open just a touch as the Eliksni gently cradled him from above, smiling up at him before his eye flitted over to Avin. His expression was harder to read than his emotions, but as their eyes met, Zak could _feel_ more than see the content security they were sharing, colored slightly by Avin’s greater unfamiliarity with all of this, and perhaps... 

_[... You know it would be somewhat hypocritical of me to be upset you liked this, right? You’re trusting Misraaks with me... it’s only fair I do the same for you.]_

It took Avin a short while to respond, but as the slow nod rubbed the Awoken’s cheek into the Captain’s side, his eyes slid closed again, Misraaks resting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it slowly the last thing Zak saw before he let his own eye slip closed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS I may have... forgotten to post something this week. Sorry it's late, scheduling this weekend was a nightmare and I just forgot to set aside the time to do my final pass on this chapter. Next chapter should actually drop saturday or sunday like usual.


	23. Null Calamity

“Stop squirming.”  
“The brush tickles.”  
“Stop squirming, or I’ll give Leshya a stun prod”  
[ / And you know I’ll use it. / ]

Sitting in their old apartment could justifiably feel odd for any number of reasons. The Red War, the Cabal storming the city, their separation, the fear of meeting each other there during those rough months. The last reason Zak had expected to end up uncomfortable here was the fact that Avin had been redoing his paint job for the last hour or so with a very fine airbrush.

“I know you know I know you’ll use it, Leshya, you couldn’t have picked a normal brush, Avin?”  
"You know this paint only works with an airbrush. Now stay. Still.”

Finding himself wishing he had a cheek to bite to distract himself, the Exo did his best to avoid further movement, his eye flitting down to the old revolver he was doing his best to clean without moving his head. It was an admirable attempt, but judging from the irritated huff that followed as he unpinned the hinge, he was failing somewhat. “Zak-” He held up a hand, in lieu of nodding to cut off the complaint. “Let me at least angle my head down a bit.” He waited until he heard Avin pull his hand back to slowly readjust, before giving the slightest of nods. As Avin resumed, he set aside the pin in a little tray along with the firing pin and the empty cylinder and its removed rounds. Some part of him recognized that his hands were moving with the same delicate precision that Avin’s were. That Avin’s were repairing a long-neglected paint job, while he was just... cleaning a weapon. Wished he could adorn his partners as they could adorn him. Grimacing somewhat as he was forced to reflect on the fact that, in a manner of speaking, he had.

“... How’s it holding up today?”

The hissing of the brush paused for a moment, but just that, before the Awoken murmured, “Not too bad. Tends not to be, here... There’s too much other Light here to focus on it.” Beneath the Traveler, Avin’s sensitivity to Light had always been more muted by the sheer amount of it overhead. He supposed it was a blessing of sorts as of late. He hoped Avin thought the same, but... those thoughts were more guarded.

Zak couldn’t fault him on that.

Sighing, he slowly began removing the trigger assembly of the weapon, setting the barrel and cylinder aside. “You sure you don’t want me to have a look at it when you’re done here?” He didn’t have to see the nod to feel the affirmation. Their bond was getting sharper again. He supposed that was a good thing. And once again found himself hoping Avin felt the same way. All this second guessing... it felt wrong. Improper. Not the way it used to be. Would things ever be the way they used to be? Surely not. Too many other factors... It didn’t fix the uncanny feeling of it all.

“How’s yours doing?”

It took everything in his power to not swivel his head, but his eye did its best to find Avin’s face regardless. He couldn’t. The Awoken was above him, beside to the left. His blind side. Maybe it was deliberate. He didn’t suppose it mattered. “... Sore, like always. You got the worst of the wrecked components out, but there’s still a lot missing there.” A soft sigh. “Why didn’t you just let me fill it in, then?” Rolling his eye, the Exo reached over to tap his thigh with a knuckle lightly. “You’ve burned enough Light on me lately. You’re not gonna be running yourself ragged on my account. I’m not worth that.” The fine mist of aerosolized paint passed above his audioreceptor and almost got a shiver out of him as he resisted the urge to flinch. 

“... You’re sure you don’t have any less fiddly brushes?”  
“Absolutely. And if you’re not gonna let me fix it, can you at least let me look it over after this?”

Sighing, Zak nodded, only to receive a jolt to the arm, Leshya already on top of shocking him for his movement. “How did you even... Yes, Avin, I’ll let you look at it. If you let me look over yours.” The Warlock froze up a bit. He’d still not seen the extent of the damage for himself. How it had healed. _If_ it had healed. Just worked through Avin’s clothing. The damage to his chest had been harder to keep concealed - not a lot of work to be done on mechanics without getting hands on - but the circumstances were... different. Even past the very different nature of what was necessary to heal.

“... Fine.”

How he longed to see Avin’s face. But the brush was moving again. The Exo could not. Instead, he rested his hand on the Warlock’s lower thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” He was shivering a little. Was it the cold? The vibration lessened as he kept his hand there. Exo ran hot, in the literal, temperature sense, so it would make sense. And yet... _’... Don’t think about it, idiot. Don’t... overthink things now.’_ Pushing back on his intrusive thoughts and unease alike, Zak slowly got back to work, beginning to wipe the old oil from the frame. The remainder of his work was done before Avin was, but it was far easier to clean a weapon than it was to fix a paint job as badly neglected as his own. Still, eventually, Avin stepped back, appraising his work from a few angles before he nodded, Zak’s gaze finally finding his face.

His eyes were tired, as they had been as of late. Darker even than their usual, his facial markings a deep navy beneath his glowing irises, rather than the almost-cerulean he recognized elsewhere. But something behind that seemed... softer. Better. Less uncanny.

Right.

Taking the Warlock’s offered hand, the Hunter stood slowly, leaving the gun he’d been working on behind on the cushion he’d been sat on as he was led to the bathroom. As he caught his reflection in the mirror, he was a bit taken aback. His old color scheme had been far more subdued. There was a lot less black, replaced with varying green tones. The old barcode was gone, having finally gotten fully painted over. No more four, no more nine. No long-lost meaning to scan from his forehead. Instead, there were a few smooth racing lines, black ringed in a forest green. There was enough to break up the old monotony the darker paint job had (until neglect added a bit of texturing at least), and it avoided clashing with the newly adorned scar across his face. The deep purple of the Void, slow waves and undulations of Light inside the smoothly faceted crystal, was just dark enough to blend, in spite of the contrast with its chromatic opposite.

“... Thoughts?”

Taking a slow breath, the Exo nodded slowly, smiling a little and watching the plates on his brow move. Expression was always so odd for Exo. Some had these same sorts of “aftermarket” add-ons like he did - Cayde-6 a notable example himself - but even he knew he was somewhat lacking in how expressive he could be, compared to any of the more “biological” members of humanity. Avin hadn’t forgotten his little tweaks. He’d mixed a subtly darker color for beneath any of the flexible plates, and touched those up too. Something to make the expressions he could make stand out. In short?

“... I love it.”

Retrieving his eyepatch from his belt, Zak tied it in place, sighing softly as he surveyed his new look. “Lot less drab... This is nice. Even if I’m only seeing it half as well.” The crack almost got a laugh out of Avin. He’d take a near-laugh. Gently wrapping his arm around his shoulder, Zak pressed his side against the Awoken’s for just a moment, before he ducked behind him, back out into the living space proper. “C’mon. Let’s get you seen to, now.”

It took Avin a few moments to follow suit, but when he did, he was already pulling away his shirt. Zak didn’t have any trouble freezing this time, his eye dropping slowly as the weight of the scarring hit him full force. The wound had healed, in the sense that there wasn’t a chunk of his side missing. But the scarring went past such physicality. He could almost hear the screaming of the bowstring in his head, watching the tangled mess of Light knotting around in the wound.

[ / I hope you weren’t expecting any better. / ]

Once again, Zak couldn’t fault Leshya’s anger, but Avin was quick to glare at his Ghost. “I didn’t _expect_ anything... just had my hopes it had healed more than... not at all.” Sighing, Zak stood by the couch, waiting for Avin to meet him there. _[Go ahead and lie down… sitting still would help, but.]_ Kneeling as the Awoken slowly settled in, the Exo Hunter gently laid his hand on the scar, twitching it back at the wince Avin makes, before he sets his hand down again. Focusing on the Void twisting around beneath the skin, Gheist’s musing came back to him again.

_[ / Your bows leave such precise scarring… / ]_

His own Light pooled in his hand, flowing freely. Letting it get caught up in the flow, twisted along. Avin tensed up as Zak got to work, but a murmur of “Steady” got Zak a quiet nod. Waiting for it to get properly entangled, the Hunter began slowly shifting the flow. Spacing out gnarled knots. Letting them make their own way loose from there. It had a desire to coil, to snag. But given the space, it could flow freely, for a little while at least. He didn’t have to do much... but what he did have to do, he knew wasn’t exactly obvious or natural for most. From the pain the outset of it caused Avin, the Exo was fairly certain he couldn’t do it for himself. It required a focus he didn’t know even he could muster in that state. Maybe if it passed quickly enough.

Which, this time, fortunately, it seemed to be doing. As Avin’s breathing slowly leveled out, smoothed over, Zak focused more on keeping the space, leaving some room. He couldn’t pull this Light free, he knew that full well already. It had its angry hooks in aspects both metaphysical and physical alike, and doing anything more than keeping it from snarling on itself was liable to cause more damage than it would allow to heal. But he could at least give it someplace to move in the space. Something to disrupt the knotted ball of gnarling and pain. His fingers traced over the wound as the angry glow slowly soothed, twisting and spiteful sharpness fading into the soft waves of the Void they’d both know far better. Shrank back, just a little, as the damage receded without that internal aggravation. Perhaps if he could do a little more of that last time, he would be able to fix it entirely... but that was a focus for later.

When Zak finally sat up, Avin looked about ready to pass out. The tension from the strain he hadn’t noticed had faded, his body relaxed to a degree that was almost unfamiliar. He was about to get up and find him a blanket when one of those brilliant blue eyes cracked open, just a touch. “... You promised to let me look at you too. Don’t forget that.” Chuckling softly, Zak stood up, heading towards the closet. “Yeah, I did, but I’m not letting you lift a finger right now. You just gave me the makeover of a lifetime and for once you seem like you might actually get a good night’s sleep. Even if it’s two in the afternoon. So sit tight, let me get you a blanket, and I promise you can look at it however you’d like in the morning.” He could _feel_ the desire to argue that point, but all he could hear was a muffled grumble as Avin dropped his face into a pillow Gheist had placed in front of him. Finding the softest blanket they had, Zak draped it across the Warlock’s prone form, before settling in on the floor by the couch. “I’m not going anywhere. Just... get some rest.”

“... Better not run off to Mercury again.”

Laughing softly, the Exo nodded, tracing a finger across his chest in a slow x shape. “My word as a Hunter.”

* * *

When Zak finally awoke to find out he’d fallen asleep himself, it was dark outside. It would’ve been dark inside too, were it not for the soft purple glow that was causing the static feeling in his chest. The wound across his torso had long since been tidied up, some medical work done in the tower, other work done with Avin’s help after they’d begun to reconcile. It was as clean as it could’ve been. And now Avin was giving it the same treatment as his eye scar. 「... Misraaks is right. We are both fools.」Avin glanced up at the speech, but didn’t stop, the scarring continuing to fill with crystallized Light, and setting that numbing sensation of soft, too-welcome relief cascading along the malfunctioning sensory nets in and around his exoskeleton. “You do know I still can’t quite understand Eliksni, right?” Zak nodded slowly, his glowing eye meeting Avin’s in the dark as each appraised the other. “Yeah... but calling you ‘fool’ in Eliksni just... sounds better. I blame Misraaks.” The Warlock rolled his eyes as he went back to work, as Zak did his best, once again, to keep still. “You two are both terrible at affectionate nicknames if that’s what that’s supposed to be.” Letting a weak chuckle escape his modulator, Zak felt the tension in his own synthetic musculature starting to fade as the low-level pain began to fade, shrugging in response. Waiting patiently for the crystal to finish, he shifted to test the work as Avin pulled back. He’d thought ahead. The plating slid over itself fine, the crystal separated where it needed to be, and filling in space where it could as a solid, swimming with Avin’s Light and his own as it filtered in.

“... I’m surprised you could manage that.” Even as he mused, Zak slowly stood up, his arm sliding around Avin’s side as the Warlock’s knees started to wobble a little. Keeping him braced, he gently lowered him back down onto the couch, sitting beside him and sighing overdramatically. “You pushed yourself too far again... You ever gonna learn?” He could feel Avin shaking his head against his chest, even as he pulled the blanket around them both. “Probably not... how about you?”

Stifling a soft chuckle himself as he pulled the Awoken closer, Zak eventually murmured, “Probably not,” as he ran his fingers through Avin’s hair.


	24. Stolen Pride

Illuminated by the edges of the Light itself, it seemed, the hangar of the Vestian Outpost felt far too empty now. A skeleton crew manned the station, the Cryptarchs’ station left unmanned, the banners of the Queen and her Wrath hanging above a bare dais, the finery of the Followers of Osiris left to gather dust. No other Guardians walked the decks, but few Awoken did either. Slowly making his way towards the small hull Variks had made his home-away-from-home, in years past, Zak-9 adjusted his cloak, praying against the odds that the last of House Judgement still held court here. Finding it empty, with its banners struck, the Exo felt a hollow in his chest. From what he could gather, the Prison of Elders remained, having survived the worst of the Red War... but in spite of that, and rumors of messages that had glanced off the City’s mangled communications network, Variks was gone. Perhaps he had simply left... retreated into the Prison. He couldn’t be sure.

Not until Gheist appeared over his shoulder, the hovering wing-points of his shell spinning. [ / Zak, holding a transmission for you. I think you want to take this. / ]

_”Hunterr Zak-of-Nine... I hear you finally decideed to return.”_

Unable to stifle an elated laugh, Zak turned to look at his ship, Gheist having already brought the _Pigeon_ around. He didn’t have to say aloud that the transmat was ready to take him back aboard, nor did he have to ask. He was free to focus on his comms for once.

“Finally is... an understatement. It’s good to hear you again, Variks.”

The crackle of transmat only muffled the Warden’s soft chuckle, as the Hunter began strapping himself in. _”Welcome baaack, Hunter. I am pleased that you surrvived.”_ Chuckling himself as he kicked the ship out of remote-pilot, Zak took hold of the controls and drifted backwards out of the ghost outpost, twisting out into the debris-riddled space of the reef.「It was a near thing... and I’ve had a lot of help.」The Warden’s end of the line was briefly quiet static, before the response came in lower tones. _「You have been keeping interesting company as of late, I see.」_ As the wreckage between the Outpost and Prison proved a familiar, if changing, obstacle, Zak took the trip a bit faster than was likely advisable, Gheist beeping nervously a few times as a bit of rock or steel narrowly missed punching through the canopy.「New friends. One in particular that thinks rather highly of you.」

This trip, at the end of the day, was not without prompting.

* * *

「You know Variks?」  
「Yes, yes. Scribe of House Judgement, attached to Wolves. Of the old guard. One of the last left from before the Whirlwind.」

Huddled beneath the Captain’s cloak, Zak looked up to Misraaks as he reflected on their shared acquaintance. Avin had drifted into slumber some time ago. Neither was quite sure when. And the Hunter was happy to let him rest, even if it did not last. He could sense an understanding from the Eliksni in kind - security was hard to come by. Zak could tell he knew it well enough. So they spoke in hushed tones - easier to manage in Eliksni, with his voice modulator and it being the Captain’s native language - as they both reminisced.

「You said he... warned you? About the Legion?」Nodding once, Misraaks idly ran his fingers along Zak’s shoulder, a tender gesture the Exo felt he’d received as of late more than given.「Yes, before they attacked your City... but only just. I am surprised you did not receive word yourself.」Sighing, Zak nodded, adjusting his position just a touch, pulling his legs closer. Under the cloak all three found themselves wrapped in.「I’m not surprised... the Legion took out our defense network, before they attacked. Comms too. It was... I don’t think he could’ve reached us.」The Eliksni’s head dipped again. Understanding in a simple, well-learned human gesture.「... You participated in the trials of his Judgement, yes? Why? What did you stand to gain, from helping? Surely _that_ was not for honor or prestige, yes?」Shrugging, Zak could only smile a bit sheepishly as he murmured,「I could lie and say I just wanted to help... and I did, but that wasn’t all. I wanted to hear more about your people. I’d only been able to get rumors, ghost stories. What little of the archives I could get at, without being a Warlock invested in kind studies.」He blinked. Misraaks had tapped his throat. Wrong word somewhere. “ ‘Without being a Warlock, invested in like studies’? Which word was wrong?” A pause from the Eliksni, before he murmured, “You used ‘kind.’ A near miss, but ‘like’ in that would be「like.」” Nodding, Zak ran the sentence again, corrected. A gentle smile half-closed Misraaks’ outer eyes. “Eia.” Pulling the Exo closer, the Eliksni turned back to his own tongue「You have an odd curiosity... though I suppose it matches that odd sense of honor you have, Zak-Fool. I have not heard from Variks in some time... but I do not doubt he survived. It would be in his nature.」Nodding, Zak let his head fall gently to Misraaks’ chest.

「... So what was this… Whirlwind, then? Why did the Traveler run? Variks had said he’d tell me someday, but...」

Feeling the Eliksni’s breath catch for just a moment, Zak resisted the temptation to look up, letting Misraaks take his time to think without that pressure.「... I believe... you should let him tell you, if he can. Judgement was always closer, to such things. I was Fallen for a long time... It has been too far from my mind for too long. Driven away, to survive. He is Judgement. He has no such distance. I feel you would do well to seek him out yourself, if he lives.」What would have been a long silence was broken by the soft groaning of the Warlock’s nightmares rousing him. The brief nod, hand forced, was his hasty promise as he reached for Avin’s hand. Felt a larger one around it.

Gave them both the security the Awoken would need to wake again.

* * *

_「Interesting company indeed,」_ the Warden murmured, as Zak gave him a name. _「You ally with the House of Dusk now, then?」_

Bringing his ship in low, Zak quickly flicked the toggles Gheist would need, and let himself be dropped onto the decking below. Shaking his head out of habit more than anything, he replied,「I ally with Misraaks... Any allegiance Dusk thinks I owe it is “mercurial” dust in the solar wind. But...」The hesitation drew what he thought might have been a chuckle from Variks, but he didn’t stop.「... Well. You knew the Eliksni had my sympathies already. Is it so hard to believe another of your kin might tread on common ground?」Watching the door at the end of the hall open, the enormous flaming Warden’s Servitor waiting beyond the portal, Variks’ voice echoed towards him, distorted by the secondary transmission.「I suppose not... Come, Guardian. I suppose you did not just come here to hunt.」

Chuckling himself as he met the construct, looking it dead in its eye, within its shell, he could only reply,「I’m always hunting, my friend. Not always so simple as for the kill.」

* * *

「I was pained to see my message did not reach your city in time. What followed...」

The Warden himself had come to meet the Hunter before too long, and while it was shortly clear that he didn’t have any specific destination in mind, Zak was all too happy to simply follow Variks’ lead and catch up, for the time being.「I was there, when it happened. Trying to help civilians evacuate. Barely escaped myself. Tried to keep back long enough for...」The pause ran on too long. Whatever curiosity Variks had, he had the kindness to pass it over on Zak’s account.「You overcame much. Killed many that tried to do the same of you, yes?」The Hunter nodded.「Most never got the chance to try. I posted up along refugee routes... ambushed any Cabal or Fallen scavengers who tried to prey upon those fleeing the City. Burned through most of my ammunition stockpiles just… killing as many of them as I could. It’s... I don’t think I’ve ever killed so many, for so long. Even with the City gone, it didn’t... place me at ease. But it kept people safer. So I had to keep going.」

A door hissed open before them, and at Variks’ direction, Zak stepped through first, a bank of surveillance feeds slowly coming to life before him as Variks activated a console.「You judged them unworthy of the cost of their life... perhaps this will please you to know, then.」The bank of monitors flickered, and slowly feed after feed of imprisoned Red Legion battling in the lesser gladiatorial arenas. Clawing survival from the Vex, the Taken, the Fallen... or losing it to them in much the same fashion. It was an odd comfort to no longer see the uniforms of the old legions among them. Whatever their flaws... at least they had not come as conquerors. But by the same token, perhaps before the Legion they too had been laid low. The Skyburners’ attempt to take Oryx out of the picture had been impressive. If ill fated. Above all though, right now, he could at least draw some satisfaction from seeing the conquerors laid low here.「It’s what they deserve. I hope they rot here.」It was tempting to ask to be dropped into one of those rings, but the Hunter bit his metaphorical tongue.「Perhaps some will last long enough to... so, Hunter, what did you come to ask of me?」

* * *

Sitting behind the controls of his ship, Zak watched the hail ping gently on his console as it waited for a response. One wasn’t forthcoming. Busy busy, Misraaks. He’d been moreso lately. His Baron had discovered something requiring more and more attention, and he was unable to escape every request, not while keeping what station he had. It worried Zak somewhat - terrified him that he might meet another Guardian, really - but he also knew that, for all his worry, Misraaks had survived a lot. More than he could imagine, he imagined.

That thought was enough to dull the worry as he pulled up his navigational charts, and plotted a jump-course for Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've hit a point I never thought I'd hit - I've run out of backlog. Writing's been tough to sneak in lately around coursework and this programming project I've got to work on. That said, I'm blocking aside a bit of time throughout the week to *try* and get a few more chapters belted out. If not, next week may end up being the first week I miss... but hopefully not. If it has to be, I'm gonna break form and post something from further up the timeline. It'll be older writing, so I'm preemptively apologizing for the probably quality drop, but. Ideally it'll at least be something while I sort stuff out.


	25. Bad Omens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. It's a day late... but hopefully not a buck short. Ideally I can work out a few more chapters, reconstruct my backlog this week... We'll see.

「You are sure this is the room?」

Heaving aside a half-caved-in door, the Eliksni shouldered his way into the room, clearing the way for the Exo behind him and surveying the lab space. The drip of fluid coming from some leaking pipe somewhere filled the room, over the quiet crackling of the flames at the muzzle of his shrapnel cannon, and the pair’s quiet respiration. Picking over some debris, Zak held his revolver up, barrel high and finger off the trigger. His motion tracker was clear, and none of the holes in the wall were open... And there was an entire crew of Eliksni lining the route here. Turning to Misraaks, the Hunter nodded slowly.「Yes, certain. The tanks, the damage... it was all very distinct.」Tracing his finger gingerly over the shattered edges of a curved glass tank, he remembered the distinct grain of the break. Just one more point to track, to confirm his theories, that he’d taken from his excursions into the forest.「I reran this route half a dozen times to confirm once I found it. We’re here.」Nodding once, Misraaks jerked his head back towards his crew, a few skittering off into the superstructure around them as a few more carried some explosives inside.「We will make it ready, then.」Smiling from behind his helmet, and wishing it was as visible as the Captain’s eyes, Zak slowly leaned into his side as he moved over, letting two arms curl about his shoulder and side as he holstered his weapon.「They know not to collapse the passageway behind that door, eia?」Another nod, a reassuring squeeze. Wonderfully satisfactory answers to his questions.

「Good... good.」Resting his head on the Eliksni’s chest for a few moments, Zak only pulled himself away with great regret, as he heard the charges being set and primed. He’d gone over where to hide them with the crew four times by now, he knew they knew by heart. That didn’t make the Hunter any less nervous about Misraaks being this close to this many explosives. As if the Captain hadn’t been fending for himself for longer than Zak had been dead.

「You sink into worry again, Hunter-Fool.」

Jerking back to the present as he was, far more gently, pulled back against the Captain’s side, the Lightbearer felt his mouth-lights burning behind his helmet rather involuntarily. Still, he didn’t have it in him to pull away again, slowly wrapping his own arm around the small of the Eliksni’s back.「We are well guarded here... and you know as well as I their proficiency with these weapons. Now ease... breathe.」As he complied, Zak only wished he could pull Misraaks aside where they were... but the time and place for that was not here and now. Least of which because the Captain’s entire crew was clustered in and around the room with them. Nodding slowly as his breathing, pitched up slightly without attracting his own notice, slowly returned to level, the Hunter gently squeezed his partner, before nodding.「Eia... Should relax.」The sounds of the last of the charges priming heralded their cue. Misraaks relinquished his hold, if only for the moment, and both of them strode from the room, the various Vandals and Marauders scurrying out before and alongside them. As they got to a safe distance, Zak could only notice it had been a while since he saw any Dregs in the Captain’s crew... 

The hull shuddered as the charges blew. Positioned as they were, Zak knew the charges within the room would’ve still been live, still buried in the dismantled and destroyed machinery. The other charges, directed outwards, left the structure around the room intact, filling the spaces with rubble and shrapnel from nearby areas. Making the gaps in the superstructure into a razorwire minefield. Just in case they did end up there... it would be through only two directions the Hive could approach. A small reprieve from the horde he’d seen. He only wished he could’ve simulated these obstacles for himself, but the Hunter was certainly no Osiris. All he and Gheist could really do was watch.

Hellish, that.

Slowly, they withdrew, the Eliksni crew taking up the lead, back along long-cleared corridors to relative safety. Zak could hear his comms crackle back to life as they left one of the Hive’s jamming zones, making a note as to its boundary. Reminding himself to tell Sloane. This one was no Savathûn’s Song, but he knew neither of them liked having areas in the arcology wholesale blacked out. Watching the crew filing out into their camplike nest, the Hunter’s attention returned to his Captain, who in turn surveyed the group, before gently tugging on the Exo’s arm.「Come... Let us find someplace more open.」

Moving through holes in the superstructure to a familiar bit of mostly-flat ground, Zak knew Misraaks wasn’t about to just settle in to relax in the Arcology proper. His intent must’ve been more... active. A suspicion confirmed as the Captain half-drew one of his arc blades, offering the hilt to Zak. Shaking his head, and smiling a little at the confused shifting of his eyelids, the Hunter held out a hand as Gheist, without further prompting, dropped a simple blade into his hand. Emblazoned with the emblem of the crucible, and finished in an almost gaudy cyan, silver, and black look, it certainly wasn’t his old blade, but this one was less likely to do real damage to the Captain on its own. And on top of that, it wasn’t held together with metaphorical duct tape and almost-literal prayers.

「Brought my own this time.」

Neither waited long to get started, the Captain finishing his draw to parry the Hunter’s immediate lunge. Practiced movements, one shifting past the other. A blade sized properly for his own hands left Zak more agile, able to dart just that little bit better with and around his cuts. Gave him that bit of extra leverage to properly parry Misraaks’ heavy swings. Neither held back, and as their blades clashed time and time again, the room echoed with the sound of lancing Arc sparks, layered through the ringing of steel. A beautiful waltz, an agile, fleet leader, and his regal, powerful follower, stepping across the dance floor.

Doomed, unfortunately, to be cut short.

The tempo staggered as the room shook, the sounds of fury coming from the far entrance. A jammed-shut door bowed outwards, a furious roar from the other side barely muted by the steel. Averting a swipe as he tumbled over Misraaks, Zak rolled to his feet as he threw the sword across his back, Misraaks shifting his blades to his secondaries as he moved to pick up an abandoned shrapnel cannon. Barking orders into his comms, the Captain was quick to return to Zak’s side as the Hunter checked the bolt on his rifle, making sure there was a round chambered from the yellow-striped magazine.

“It is a bit rude, is it not, to interrupt a dance in human culture?”

Misraaks speaking in Terran Common away from Avin made Zak start a little bit - he’d gotten so accustomed to the Eliksni language when they were alone like this, after so much time forcing himself to learn it - but it got a chuckle out of him nonetheless. “Yeah. Normally you just tell them to fuck off... but in this case we might have to speak louder than words.” Nodding, the Captain seemed to smirk behind his own mask. “Eia… perhaps they are more fluent in ‘firearm’ than in our tongues.” If it weren’t for the Ogre trying to break through the door, as the crew rapidly filtered in from where the pair had arrived minutes prior, Zak would’ve kissed the Captain for that joke.

As it was... dishearteningly pressing matters took priority.

Wrenching steel screeched through the room as the enormous beast shouldered its way through. The immediate firing line from the Eliksni side of the room tore through its head almost immediately, leaving it to block the door until its corpse mouldered away to the chitin. A blessed few moments before the horde poured in. Taking up a defensive position among the crew, Zak made sure to leave himself just a bit more in the open as he fired, drawing as much fire as he could, a maneuver he’d practiced well by now. None of the Eliksni present had the benefit of immortality on their side, after all. The least he could do with his was take a few extra hits. Not that much was getting close enough to fire. Arc-imbued filaments streaked across the room like plasma bursts, illuminating the far wall and their targets even as pinpoint-precise holes bored into both, all the while flaming shrapnel cannon bursts and the occasional scorch cannon round brought a warmer glow to match the methodical three-shot cadence burst of the Hunter’s weapon. The tide wasn’t neverending, but unfortunately there was rather a lot of it, and even as the Thralls began to let up, the Knights filtered in. The cannoneers with their boomers were never allowed to get close enough to fire, but running low on ammo, and knowing the Eliksni couldn’t likely sustain an extended conflict themselves, Zak turned his attention only briefly to Misraaks.

「Start covering their retreat. I’m going out there.」

Vaulting over a chest-high wall before the Captain could object, Zak swapped his rifle for his sword, ducking into thin air and vanishing into it as he broke into a full-out sprint. A glance back showed him some of the Eliksni retreating... and about a third of them, Misraaks included, charging after him. Swearing under his metaphorical breath, he counted himself lucky that he’d had the sense to at least wait for their ranged capability to die down for this. They couldn’t get shot down so easily, even if Misraaks would never let him fight this alone. Only a scant few shrapnel bursts whizzed by him as he approached, the crew predictably running about as low on ammo as he was. Most of them were charging with arc spears and broadswords - Misraaks included on the latter front, swapping his weapons to his primaries again as they closed the distance.

Quietly praying to himself that all of the fools following him would survive this melee, Zak slid under a Knight and cut through its waist.

Meeting another blade with his own as he shimmered back into view, the Hunter kicked off a Thrall attempting to claw at his shoulder in the process of getting up, twisting behind the Knight and spinning his blade around it to bite into its neck. Sliding between chitinous plates, he hurdled its shoulder and finished the rotation, letting its head pop free moments before the rest of it crumbled into powder and husks. The sounds of arc lancing out and meeting hard chitin filled the air around him, and as Misraaks shouldered one of the Chivalry into the wall to drive a broadsword into its chest, Zak turned his attention to a Knight a group of vandals with pikes were menacing. Keeping the fight in their favor, slowly whittling down the Order’s number, the crew had yet to suffer a casualty as the last of the Knights was backed against a wall.

Until the ceiling collapsed behind them, at least.

Buckling under the weight of at least four dozen Thrall, the decrepit plasteel threw up a dust cloud, Zak instinctively plunged his blade home, feeling the Knight crumble around it, before he turned his attention to the new horde, watching a trio of Wizards float down behind them, and two more Knights aside. This was... not good. Swearing again, Zak dove into the fray, thinning the herd of Thrall with broad strokes in his attempts to reach the Wizards even as a barrage of fire and poisonous smog filled the air before them. It wasn’t enough, and he felt Misraaks tear a pair of clinging Thrall from his shoulder as the fray became cluttered, disoriented. The tide had turned against them. One option left. But he couldn’t. There were Eliksni here. Casualties to be had. _’They all die if you don’t, and so do you._ But he couldn’t... 

Void scarring roiled on Avin’s side in Zak’s blinded eye.

Kicking wordlessly off Misraaks’ thigh, Zak hurled his sword into one of the Wizards, the steel piercing its chest and taking it to the floor as it shrieked and clawed a the weapon. Wounded, not dead. More swearing. Still, he had his vantage point after another jump off of the air. Pushing aside the abject loathing for the feeling of nothingness beneath his feet as he drew his hand back, Zak let the Void flow from his fingers.

Boring a hole in the larger of the Knights, the arrow disintegrated into a roil where the creature once stood.

Fine twine lanced out through the crowd, Thrall clawing at their own heads as it strung between them, dragged them down. Pulled them back from the Eliksni, towards the shrieking, hulking creature and its massive blade, swung wildly in an attempt to excise the rotting pain in its chest as it was slowly unmade. Thrall after Thrall fell to its own failed efforts, and not a single Eliksni found themselves stranded in the web as it thickened with stolen life force. Falling from the sky, Zak pulled his second rifle from his back, DARCI chirping affirmatively in his ear as he shouldered the rifle. Through the scope, he saw Misraaks’ four eyes locked onto him as he fell, a wordless recognition of what Zak risked in himself to save them. A welcome calm fell over the Hunter again as he saw his Captain’s face.

Neither flinched as the sniper round bored through the Knight behind the Eliksni’s shoulder.

By the time he’d landed, the accumulated damage had surged through the web, violently unmaking the rest of the horde. More than slightly drained, Zak barely managed to prop himself up on his knees with his rifle, clinging to DARCI’s barrel as the butt slammed into steel. Light was always so sparse here. He loathed the feeling of having to allow so much out into the open when so little was waiting to flow back in, but without a choice, he could do nothing but do what must be. Thoughts that were of smaller comfort than the arms wrapping around him and hefting him to his feet, Misraaks quickly beginning to haul him back out of the room. Snagging his sword as he passed it, he looked back to see a few of the crew helping each other in much the same fashion. No deaths... yet. But two of them were badly wounded, and a third looked as though they may have been poisoned. Forcing himself to look forward, he bit his tongue, saving the chastising he wanted to give them as he heard chatter on Misraaks’ radio. They were bringing a skiff around.

Only once Zak had been safely dropped into a seat on the ship did Misraaks pause to survey his own wounds. Nothing major, nothing a bit of rest couldn’t fix. They were in the same boat there, at least.「Going to check on the wounded... stay still here or I will have Marlis tie you up.」Nodding slowly, and glancing over at the aforementioned Marauder, who simply held up a coil of cable, Zak let out a soft sigh.「You... can never call me a fool again without being a hypocrite.」Misraaks didn’t answer aloud, but from the half-endearing, half-tired look he got back, he knew the Captain understood. Watching him go, the Hunter slowly shifted in place, getting himself comfortable and slowly prying off his helmet. His armor was minimally scarred... small blessing. Gheist wouldn’t have as much to quietly stare at him about. Presently, the Little Light in question was flitting around the wounded with Misraaks, helping him appraise the wounded and providing some of Zak’s first aid supplies where they could help.

The sight made it a little easier to nod off.

When Zak awoke, he was in his hide on Earth, being settled into his bed by the Captain. Before he could pull away, the Hunter brought his fingers up to run along Misraaks’ jawline below his mask, the Eliksni freezing for a moment before one of his primaries met, and slowly grasped, the roaming hand. “... My great big Captain-Fool. Not planning on just leaving me here, are you?” Pausing to consider, the alien eventually seemed to decide he wasn’t, slowly sinking into the too-small bedding with the Lightbearer, wrapping all four arms around him even as the gesture was returned. “... Avin is right. Fool sounds much less endearing in your language.” Snickering quietly, Zak nods, murmuring,「Would you prefer if I called you Fool in your tongue, then?」His answer came in a quiet hissing as the Captain slowly removed his helmet, resting his bare forehead on Zak’s with a quiet rumble.

「... If your crew needs something to do-」Cut off by Misraaks’ quiet headshake, Zak quieted, watching one side-pair of those softly glowing blue eyes crack open. His left, so he could peer into the Exo’s right.「They can fend for themselves for a few hours... Not sure I could say the same for you right now.」Letting out a faux-indignant chuckle, Zak moved a hand down to the small of the Captain’s back, nipping gently at the Eliksni’s jaw on his way to leaning into his neck, amidst the fluffy collar of his cloak.「And what exactly do you mean by that, Captain-Fool~?」

His breath hitched in his throat as he felt the Captain’s hands roaming south, phantom sensations of Arc energy seeming to lance up his spine as he caught his low, rumbled response.「Use your intuition, Hunter-Fool... see if you can work it out before I do.」


	26. Sins of the Past

After all this time, Zak had almost forgotten what it was to wake up pleasantly sore.

Stirring beneath the Eliksni draped across his back, the Exo made only minimal attempts to squirm free. His efforts were rewarded by a quiet, murmured,「Hunter-Fool... welcome to waking,」from Misraaks, and a gentle squeeze back against his form. Beneath that large purple cloak, they were both rather snug and warm... The comfort made it easy to miss the sound of boots on the elevated front step of the hide.

“Bad time?”

Even from beneath the Captain, the old revolver was lightning fast to point to the door, drawn and cocked in one smooth motion... only to freeze as his groggy brain caught up to his ears.

“... Caela?!”

Rolling her luminous blue eyes, the Awoken Warlock leaned against the doorframe, the sub-machine gun strapped to her side clacking lightly against the wooden frame. Arms crossed, she surveyed the pair, even as Misraaks slowly rose to his feet, and Zak scrambled for his shirt. “I can explain-”

「Don’t bother. Been there, done that. Hey big guy.」

Her accent was… odd. And she was speaking Eliksni. Shocked was an understatement for how laughably stunned the Exo found himself as the Warlock’s Ghost floated over her shoulder, Penumbra chirping cheerily, [ / Found him Avin! Hide number two, like you guessed. He’s got a friend... Oh you know! Good, good. / ] Nodding slowly to the newcomer, the Captain properly stood, adjusting his own clothes carefully, and freeing up Zak’s movement. Stumbling roughly out of bed, Zak managed to work his way into the first layer of the Orpheus Rig before Caela spoke up again. “You’re lucky Aisling wasn’t the one that found you.” Tugging on his shirt, Zak paused, raising his eyebrow and narrowing his eye just a touch. “... Why would she be looking for me?”

Standing and moving into the center of the room, Caela replied, “That’d be same reason as me. That being that your Vanguard wants to talk to you, and was offering me glimmer. Kinda urgent, apparently. If you want I can tell him you’re busy, but you’d owe me.” Shaking his head, Zak started to don his armor, shifting a bit uncomfortably as Caela didn’t do a thing to look away. And right on cue... “Take it easy, man, you’re not the first naked robot I’ve seen either.” His turn to roll his eye. “You’ll have to forgive me for being a bit panicked over being woken up in bed with an Eliksni by someone other than said Eliksni.”

Once he was decent, she stood aside, letting him head towards the entryway as Misraaks followed, returning the salute Caela gave him with a small amount of hesitation.「You know our ways... Did you stay with the Reef?」A quick headshake.「A story for another time, big guy. Have him ask me sometime he’s not needed.」The Eliksni gave her another curious look, even as he followed Zak down to the forest floor. Scrambling down the tree after the Hunter as he leapt, he reached the ground about as the Exo kicked off thin air to arrest his own fall. The Warlock drifted far more graciously to her landing. An odd thing for someone with a sub-machine gun on their hip and a heavy machine gun across their back.

“Tell Cayde I’ll be there in a few hours… if it can wait that long.” Nodding, Caela glanced to her Ghost again. “Penny, think you could let him know and bring the ship around?” A quiet affirmative beep and a quick transmat answered the Warlock’s question, leaving her to turn back to the pair. “Not _that_ urgent, I don’t think. Just don’t push it. Probably not time for another round for you two, hate to say.” He had never hated the glow of his mouth lights more than he did now, as his metaphorical cheeks burned. “Yeah, yeah... I’ve got it.”

“Good. See you in a few hours, kid.”

As the Awoken disappeared, so did Gheist, transmatting up to Zak’s own ship even as Misraaks rested one of his primary hands on his partner’s shoulder.「... I have to wonder... no, must be another. But Zak... While you were asleep, my crew reported something. A cache of technology from the time where the Great Machine blessed you. Before your Whirlwind. It was near...」As he trailed off, a resigned sigh escaped Zak, along with a gentle nod.「... I hope your crew’s the only one with the intel. The last thing I need right now is Cayde telling me to go rummaging through another golden age vault.」

* * *

“Look, it’s just one cache. A few datapads, some engrams. That kinda stuff.”

Perched on a railing in the hangar, across from Cayde-6 and the support beam he was leaning on, Zak crossed his arms, looping them around one knee as the other hooked through the bars of the rail proper. “Yes. A few datapads, some engrams, and various other ‘stuff’... Four miles deep into the New Pacific Arcology. In the heart of Hive territory. Did the five fireteams we lost to Savathûn’s Song not teach us why we don’t do that?” The Hunter Vanguard held up his hands, attempting to placate the Nightstalker as he glared at him from under his hood. “... Did my goddamn eye not teach us?”

“Okay look, that eye thing... you did that to yourself.” True. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t use it to make the point. “But that aside, you can’t pretend you haven’t been making a lot of Fallen friends in the Arcology. And even without their help, you know that place like the back of your hand, don’t you?” Ah. Sloane had been keeping better tabs on him than she’d let on. Still... there was no way he knew how right he was in some areas. Shifting on the rail, Zak sighed, tapping his foot on the decking. “... I know bits and pieces. I’ve never been to wherever this is, I’d have looted it for myself already.” As if to prove a point, he flicked Cayde’s own knife into the grated deck at his feet, having palmed it as he passed him by on the way to his perch. The Vanguard jumped just a touch at the gesture, before, without missing a beat, he picked it back up and sheathed it, grumbling something about too much stalker, not enough night, before he held his hands together.

“I know you’ve got bad blood deep in there, but... This isn’t the moon. Crota hasn’t been building an army there for millenia. This is just another brood of Hive. And that oversized spotlight is dead. So’s its best forces. One good team of Guardians doesn’t have the same things to fear this time. And from what the Cryptarchs let slip, some of this stuff is big. ‘Could turn the tide of the next big war’ big. It’s either I send you, with your knowledge of the area and a fireteam or three, or I send five fireteams blind, and we take our chances.” The ultimatum. He’d worried it was coming. It didn’t blindside him, but it still took the wind out of his sails, and he could tell Cayde could see as much. “... So. Deal?” A curt, hesitant nod. 

“... I’ll go alone. And I’m taking a day to prepare.”

* * *

Standing before the gateway, Zak didn’t have to look back as he heard footsteps. The bond wove tighter around them as proximity became less of a factor. Gentle unease from one, tightly wound disquiet from the other. Sighing and bracing himself up, the Hunter turned to face Misraaks and Avin as they approached the door to the Infinite Forest.

“... Thanks for coming by so quick. I... I need to show you both something.”

The disquiet grew more agitated. The unease... shifted somewhat. Avin’s hands balled into fists even as Misraaks slowly adjusted his footing on the stairs. “It’s not... it’s not _that._ This is... I just want to show you. Please.” Eyes flitted between him and the Forest. “... It’s safe. Osiris runs it. It’s not... The Vex don’t have it anymore. Not really. Just... please trust me.”

[ / Why? / ]

Floating around Avin’s shoulder, Leshya nestled into his spot in the fluffy collar that was the Warlock’s scarf, glaring at the Hunter with that piercing gaze. As much as it hurt... once again, he couldn’t fault the construct. But as Misraaks appraised Zak’s face, his bond softened. Unease replaced with a gentle sadness. “... Because he may not have further chance.” The Captain’s use of Terran Common was such a quiet comfort for the Exo, one he was very grateful for right now as he stared plaintively at the Warlock. “There’s nothing I can say, to fix what I did, Leshya... but this isn’t that. I just... need you all to see this.”

Proceeding Avin’s slow nod came a long, nervous swallow.

The walk was short. Sagira, for once silently, helped Gheist redirect the forest pathways. Kept them away from the patrols. The only reason Zak felt safe with Misraaks in here. One gateway led to another. And as they strode through the hallway, Zak paused before the triangular opening to their destination. Paused. Tapped the tips of his fingers on his thigh as a nervous habit. Still on edge, half his bond threatened to strangle him... like a drowning man and his savior. The other gently guided them both back to shore, and Zak found himself wondering if Avin felt that even half as well as he did.

He supposed it didn’t much matter for the matter at hand.

Turning back, the Exo gently took the Awoken’s hand, squeezed it gently. Waited for him to cling back, fingers curled into a clawed deathgrip. Then took his first steps through the portal, pulling the drowning man ashore. As all three stepped through, the triangular gateway slowly slid down to a vertical line, then down into a pinprick. And it was gone. Leaving only the fields of golden grasses, red blossoms, hermaion trees. And the Traveler, hovering over the hilly fields of Mercury as it terraformed the planet. Avin’s hand went slack as his eyes went wide with wonder. “It’s...” A slow step, then another. Warlock passed Hunter by in increasingly quick strides. The wry smile painted on the functioning half of Zak’s face preceded his ‘interruption’. “... Mercury. Before the Vex.” Solar wind blustered across the plains, and as Misraaks too stepped slowly forwards, the Hunter finally followed suit.

Wasting no more time in stunned silence, Avin rushed to the nearest group of blossoms, crouching down to investigate them. Running his fingers along the soft petals, and taking a few samples with ginger care. Quickly got to his feet and sprinted to a proximate tree. Ran his hands along the bark. Even took off his glove to feel it beneath his fingertips. As much as he was able. Following him over, Zak gently coaxed his way into their bond as he removed his own gauntlet and pressed his bare fingers into the wood next to Avin’s. Gave him the sensation his void-burned fingers didn’t have, by proxy. “I know I promised I’d never come back here, but...” Shaking his head, Avin didn’t respond verbally, a quiet burst of garbled, but positive emotion rushing back along the ‘line.’ “... I knew you’d want to see this. There’s a _few_ good things hidden deep in the Forest. If... only a few.”

Picking up to whip across the plains again, solar wind fluttered the Eliksni cloaks of the Hunter and Captain, as the stolen cloak and coattails on the Warlock’s outfit blustered out in kind. Turning away from the tree, Avin slowly rested his head on Zak’s chest, the taller Exo gently wrapping his arm around his back in return as that link finally sparked with something more coherent than emotion or sensation. _: ... Thank you for bringing me here. I wish it was... anywhere_ but _here, but... thank you, still. :_ Nodding gently, Zak pressed his metal lips to the Awoken’s forehead, before slowly pulling his arm back and stepping into the shade of the tree himself. “Stay as long as you like... Sagira owed me a favor, so we’ve got a stable simulation as long as they can keep it going.” Nodding, the Awoken set about documentation, his Ghost floating free and giving the Hunter a suspicious shell-squeezing squint, before setting about helping his Guardian with his tasks. Misraaks, giving Zak a soft glance of his own. With Avin’s back turned, the soft smile turned melancholy. The Captain looked as though he wanted to say something... but after a brief tilt of the head from Zak, he slowly turned, surveying the world for himself. Saw the Great Machine working its purpose firsthand... a sight few ever had the blessing of, amongst Terrans and Eliksni alike.

But sooner or later, the melancholy hanging behind Zak and Misraaks’ shared facade caught the right wind, and drifted into Avin’s consciousness. “... What aren’t you telling me, Zak? Why did you bring us here?” Had he a literal heart, it would’ve frozen. Skipped a beat. Skipped ten beats. Instead, his ventilation stopped, and almost immediately his processors began warning him as they started to overheat. “... We… I’m being sent out on a mission, is all. It’s a bit risky. But I should be fine.” He nodded to the Warlock, as if to convince himself as much as anyone else. “Just a recon op. Retrieval if I find anything, maybe.” Blue eyes turned away from the green and onto more common ground. The Captain’s rumbling, uneasy growl all but confirmed his suspicions, and Zak knew it. He met Misraaks’ eyes as he looked to him. Tried to plead with him not to say, without saying a word himself. He knew Misraaks understood... and yet.

“... If you refuse, Hunter-Fool, I will say to him. His nightmares, the things of his prophecies. This mission. They are one and the same.”

Zak tried to stammer out a protest, but couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t even seem to find his modulator to try and form babble in an attempt to _get to_ words. “He asked for aid demolishing empty spaces for Hive, keep them out of area. Area he thinks you die. He dies. Sometimes…-”

“Sometimes you die too.”

Quiet as leaves rolling over a graveyard, Avin’s voice pierced the conversation like a loose arrow nonetheless. A slow nod from Misraaks. “Eia... you know this too. And Hunter-Fool persists. Insists he go on. Why?!” The Captain’s attention turned back to the Exo. “For your leader? He sends you to die. He knows risk. Judges you worth trinkets. Let him send another. Let him go himself, he-”

“If I don’t go, Misraaks, he _will_ send another. Not just one other. And each and every one of them will die worse deaths than I would alone. I don’t think he really _does_ know the risk.” The outburst scared even himself, but he didn’t show it. Just turned his attention to the Traveler, frozen in time over their heads in the blessed few trapped moments before the constructs finally arrived. “I’d just be sending ten other Guardians to their deaths... at least this way, it’ll just be me. Teaching a hard lesson.” He didn’t flinch back as Misraaks almost seemed to lunge closer. Indeed, he almost instinctively rubbed his cheek into the alien’s palm as he gently cupped his face in his primaries.「But they are not _you_... They’re-」”People. People with friends. Family. Adopted or otherwise... I’m not the only one who’ll leave behind people who love me. And I can’t stand by and watch this happen to anyone else. I... It’s not even a guarantee I’ll die. Maybe if there’s just me... I can stay beneath the radar long enough for what we need. And-”

“Stop being such a Traveler-damned fool.”

Five eyes turned to the Warlock, who stood with his hands balled up into fists not five feet distant. Closer than he had been moments prior. Zak had missed his approach, and it wasn’t even from his blind side. “You’re just going to go in there and die if you go alone... Maybe with the two of us, we have a chance.” Misraaks let his hands slide free, only for Avin to replace them with one of his own, the Captain stepping back respectfully as the Awoken gazed plaintively into the Exo’s eye. “You don’t know it’s gonna play out how you saw... The Vex can’t simulate the Light, remember?” Steel fingers gently curled around warmer, softer ones, tender to touch in spite of their construction. “... It’s... not that simple. It’s-”

 _”It doesn’t matter if it is or not..._ You’re not going alone. You’re not. You’re just… not.”

Words came somewhat hesitantly, the unyielding conviction in his voice fading. But behind the words, through their bond, it only grew more intense. Zak could feel the uphill battle he had ahead. Slowly, he lowered his head to the Awoken’s shoulder. Snaked his arms around the small of his back, held him closer. Unfurled the white flag. “... Okay. Yeah. We’ll go together.”

Misraaks straightened slightly as Zak acquiesced... and found himself perplexed.

He hadn’t known Exo could cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Well. We've made it to the beginning of the end. Of the first proper arc at least. Two more to go after this one. Not gonna be done with the story after this, just gonna be down to whether or not I finally cave in and split it off to a new fic...
> 
> ... I probably won't. I think I wanna save that for a later point. But. We'll see.


	27. Conflagration I - The Arcology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sliding this out a day early. Figure it's as good a time as any.

Caela was waiting for them outside the Infinite Forest. Penny was busying herself scanning over Vex corpses, occasionally picking up and tossing a piece with her manipulation beam. Whatever method there was to her acting, she hid it behind some cheery humming and her electric shell. Her Guardian was much more obvious, patting Misraaks’ forearm as he gave her a small nod.

「Hey there big guy. Walking in the woods with your friends, eh?」

Glancing past him to Zak at the Captain’s quiet “Eia,” Caela gives him a cheeky salute, before sliding her helmet back on and letting it hiss shut, even as the other two don their helmets in kind. “Aisling’s at the Shrine dealing with some personal stuff. So I’m stuck here, watching the gate.” A slightly confused, silent glance was exchanged between the other two Guardians, before she elaborated, “I know there’s a whole planet but I’m not going far from the Lighthouse on a half-shredded Vex dyson sphere without backup. I’d ask you to tag along, but... well, one of you is about to be busy running errands for a unicorn with a fancy revolver.”

Her appraisal wasn’t exactly wrong.

“... Yeah. Should probably get going.” Slowly gripping Misraaks’ forearm, Zak stared up at the Captain behind his visor. Saw sadness building in those eyes. Forced himself to turn away. “Hopefully Aisling doesn’t take much longer.” Taking his leave, the Hunter let Gheist float over his shoulder as he prepared for his transmat, closely followed by the Warlock. Which left Misraaks alone, staring at their ships as they flew away.

「... What’s up big guy?」

Her tone was softer now, as she gripped the Eliksni’s forearm again. It took him a moment to flinch out of instinct, having grown accustomed to human touch.「... It is nothing.」Nodding slowly, the Warlock gestured to her Ghost slyly, Penny disappearing halfway back to her as a few Vex plates clatter loudly to the stone. Waving over her shoulder, she made to give the Captain his space, pulling the Riskrunner from the hook on her belt.「If you say so. I’d make yourself scarce before too long, my partner’s not huge on Eliksni.」

The Captain looked to the sky as she stepped away. Shifted in place. Turned back.

「... Warlock. May I borrow you for a few words?」

* * *

“... Are you sure you-”

_: Yes. Stop asking. :_

For the sixteenth time, Zak checked the old fashioned revolver’s cylinder. Nine rounds loaded. Snapping the break action closed, he holstered the weapon. Felt for the other cannon under his cloak. Tapped the sidearm tucked beneath the beefier handgun to confirm its magazine was loaded, as he lifted a magazine for the pulse rifle in his hands. Nervous habits. Confirming ammo counts.

As if a few extra bullets would save them.

_: How deep is it? :_

Unable to tell if Avin was speaking through their bond because he wasn’t able to speak, for whatever reason, or for other reasons, Zak opted to reply in kind. _: Pretty deep. I’d say at least a mile into the structure. I know a pretty direct route through that should take us past the worst of the infestation. :_ The Warlock nodded, and the Hunter found himself wondering if he’d been taken at his word by interpretation rather than meaning - that they’d be safe following his route. Voidfire danced in the back of his head as he choked the link, stifling the emotions trying to flow through it. He felt the concern returning, but the Warlock didn’t say anything else. Mentally or otherwise.

“... Okay. Let’s get going.”

By now long past entering from the juncture between the Arcology and the Rig proper, Zak leapt from the side, pushing out twenty metres down the side of the structure proper and kicking off thin air to tumble into a breach in the superstructure. Catching a support beam, he quickly mantled up onto it, hopping to a more gracious platform of steel grating as Avin floated in after him, following his lead. The ancient, broomhandled hand cannon was at the ready in the Warlock’s hands. Locked and loaded. Guns at the ready.

They would not need them for some time yet.

Picking through the superstructure, in the space between spaces, Avin and Zak navigated by Ghostlight, using it as sparingly as possible only when the light well and truly went dim. During their research, Gheist had managed to pull a partial schematic of the Arcology - it’d get them most of the way there. The path was relatively linear, if far from straight forward thanks to the support beams they were traversing.

Even with the schematics, though, they could only get so far on concrete knowledge.

Before too long, the first major roadblock appeared - a section of rooms so thoroughly collapsed that they’d dropped to the bottom of the arcology’s shell, what looked like miles below. No easy way across. And even if there were, on the other side the telltale, barnacle-like encrustation of the Hive’s influence were lining some of the edges of the breach. They were officially in enemy territory.

_: ... Do we cross? :_

As the Warlock’s voice echoed quietly in his head - keen on whispering even inaudibly it seemed - Zak took stock of the situation an extra time, plotting the route in his head. Then he nodded, balling his hand up as a sphere of Void formed within.

The grenade hit the structure overhead and ruptured with a thundering crack as it snapped a weak point in the abused girders. Before the second was up, a twisting shriek of metal contorting filled the space, and another room collapsed into the area before them, most of its structure falling into nothingness below, leaving a scant bit of twisted plasteel behind. It was enough to bridge the gap.

But they were running on borrowed time now.

_: Let’s get moving before company cuts us off. :_

Avin nodded even as Zak took a running start, kicking off thin air twice, and sliding along a ramped bit of flooring to a mangled girder, extending like a desperately outstretched arm to their goal. There was no delicate balancing act - only practiced speed, his footfalls unreasonably light for a war machine of his size. For all that he was made of metal... his design had always been somewhat compact. It worked to his advantage - the beam retained structural integrity long enough for Avin to follow in his footsteps. Not much longer. As they ducked back into the substructure, picking into a ruptured ventilation shaft, they could hear what was left of their former foothold creaking, then tearing free.

_: We’re getting close... 400 metres, if Cayde was right. :_

And if he wasn’t, they were risking all of this for nothing. Dangerously close to the room full of test tubes. Old biological data. He’d archived some of it with Misraaks when they’d shelled the surrounding areas. But there hadn’t been time to safely collect it all. And what Cayde was after didn’t fit the bill...

Still, to be this close... 

Zak was pulled from his revelry as he rounded a corner in the ducting to find himself facing a Thrall, crouched over a mound of… something. It turned to look over its hunched shoulder. Their eyes met.

The sound of thunder echoed through the shaft, only sinking into silence for the barest of moments, before the shrieking began.

“... Time to run.”

Within the shaft, of course, there was no room for such luxuries, but Zak scrabbled forwards nonetheless, his rifle slung across his back as he kept his revolver in hand. Not ideal. Far from ideal. Another Thrall was kicked into an active fan when it attempted to ambush them from a junction. Zak kicked open a panel, into the structure proper. Three hundred metres. The sounds were coming from behind them now. Together, they wrenched open a jammed door, clambering through and letting it slam shut behind them. Sprinted through a hall full of decrepit books and data terminals. Getting close. Two hundred metres. Vaulted up to a high balcony, through a shattered glass portal. They were flying blind. The coordinates were to the east now. One hundred fifty. Changed bearing. Tore through a group of Acolytes with quick fire and a grenade from each Guardian. One hundred. Into a maintenance corridor. Knight down. Reload. Fifty. Around the corner.

The floor was gone.

Collapsed into a pile of rubble, Zak recognized the substructure they’d bombed. It had collapsed three levels of maintenance catwalks. The space below was full of debris, sharp, jagged. Two floors up, their objective. It was a long jump. An Acolyte shrieked from behind them and summoned Soulfire into its hand. Two simultaneous cannon rounds ruptured the construct, set it against its controller in chaotic instability. Both jumped. Both scrabbled for purchase, narrowly mantled the ledge. Reload. Heavy footsteps behind them.

Gheist flickered into view long enough to conjure Zak’s sword for him.

Whipping Dark Drinker through the air, its repaired Void crystal glowing dimly in the light, Zak ran ahead, the door to their target hissing open. Five metres.

In the center of the room was a pedestal, piled high with engrams of all sorts. Encoded computer cores and logic gates, valuable artefacts, samples. Stored away for the end of days. Or perhaps, this was simply a junk pile. Zak didn’t care. They were here. The lot were taken, stored in their Ghosts’ hammerspace units. Had to get out. Had to escape. Gaze turned left, right. Straight ahead.

Natural light filtered through a jammed-open entryway. Bingo. Zak gestured to Avin even as the sound of a Wizard filtered in from where they came. Sprinted for the door.

Falling.

Screaming.

Keening.

Dying.

Zak awoke with a sharp inhale as Gheist translocated his body from the steel girder that he’d landed on, still stained with bio-armature oil. Some distance past, Avin retched and coughed, forcing dead air from his lungs. Natural light filtered in from above where the complex had collapsed, revealing a hole in the roof some five hundred metres distant. Too far to run, jump. No jumpship to extract from there. No way to _get_ a jumpship from in here. “Vanguard Charlie Six, we’ve got the package, setbacks on evac, how copy?”

Static.

“... Vanguard Sierra Tango, we need exfil, how copy?”

It laughed at him through the snowstorm. Much like the Wizard descending from above. The burst of fire that ripped through its head shut it up.

On their own. In a room full of broken test tubes and rubble.

As the shrieking filled their ears, Zak put his rifle back, pulling his sword from the rubble. The crystal was cracked again. No time to fix it now. As he hurried Avin through the one safe door, a sphere of Voidfire filled his hand. Left it as quickly as it had entered. They fled down the corridor as the room behind them ceased to be. Long, familiar halls. Thrall crawled from familiar holes. Lashed out. They lashed back. Gun and sword alike pared back the ranks. Light blasted back the Dark. But Darkness is insidious. As the Light grows brighter, its shadows cast grow deeper. The horde filtered from before them. From behind. Cloying, grasping. Stifling their Light. Each round spent bought seconds. Precious seconds, for precious rounds.

Both grew fewer still as Avin tore the life from a Knight and lashed out with a Lance.

The passageway rocked behind them as they were both thrown free, into a wider corridor. Out of one path in a fork, into the adjoined hall. They were getting close. Close to the heart.

Zak felt what passed for his beating as he sprinted for the exit.

He could feel confusion, desperation. Fear. If it was his or Avin’s, he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t care. _: Stay on me, there’s a way out. It’s a long way... long haul. But out. :_ He told himself a lie, so that he could tell it to his Light, clinging to him in spirit as they both fired away. How he wished he could cling back in the physical sense. No time. Kept shooting, kept swinging. Heard the crackle of the tested blade’s crystal. Knew it wouldn’t hold much longer. Looked down to appraise the damage.

His eye rose just in time to see the osmium sword cleaving through the air towards him.

* * *

Eyes twisted back and forth behind the capreoline helm, gun in one hand, open claw for the other, firing as fast as he could work the ancient weapon’s trigger. Thrall after Acolyte after Thrall fell, life torn from a Wizard’s bosom like flesh - _with_ flesh. He didn’t keep track in the pandemonium. He wasn’t sure if the fear was his or Zak’s. It didn’t matter. Avin pushed it away. Couldn’t. Not here. Couldn’t let it win.

_There’s too many._

_: Leshya, I- :_

Avin felt the bond twist, bend. Heard the sound of shattering steel. Saw his Lightbonded knocked to the floor, as the hilt of Dark Drinker spun away in an arc, the blade fractured. Void energy carried the largest piece, the end, into the Knight’s throat, an instantly karmic fate, even as further shards worked their way into the Exo’s side. A silent scream left the Awoken’s throat. Turned back, and drew the gold-plated sidearm. In tandem, he fired round after round, tearing open the horde, carving a path back through.

A wave of relief washed through his body as Zak finally stirred, not twenty feet distant... even as the sword cleaved into his side.

* * *

Zak felt for a weapon. Any weapon. Found the hilt. Jammed it into his belt. Felt for Drang. Empty. The revolver. Empty. Machina Dei. _Click._ How had he let his ammunition run this dry? Fine. The cannon then. He reached beneath his cloak.

Gone.

Where had it gone?

Straps for its magnetic plate were missing, severed by a few shards of his own sword, now embedded in his side. Thrall were closing in. He couldn’t see it.

Nor could he see the sword he felt plunge into Avin’s side.

His head snapped up, as Avin lashed back out, eradicating the Knight’s head before he could finish the stroke. But not soon enough. The Warlock staggered behind a mass of chitinous fury. Fell beyond his view. Fear clutched at his heart.

_Tut tut, o seeker mine... surely this is not the limit of your resolve?_

Zak heard nothing, the voice pinging all around inside his head, wringing him dry. What had she said?

... Said? Who said... 

_Avin._

Zak staggered to his feet. Drew the hilt. Spun a knife into his other hand. Ignoring the pain, he advanced. Ignored the sounds of Ogres smashing at the doors, trying to widen them enough to force through. Lashed out with Voidfire, pushed back the tide. Cut into it as it returned. He didn’t know how he looped his arm under Avin’s shoulders, how he managed to get him as far as he did, up towards high ground. All he knew was the feeling of that frayed, tattered bond. The desperate clinging to the strands. Trying to weave them back together. Then the force of a Cursed Thrall lunging at them. They tumbled back, hurtled, through and over the horde. The air left Zak’s cooling systems as he slammed into the chitin-covered structure, Gheist begging to fix it echoing in his ears as he felt three of his musculature subsystems fail. Not here. Not enough Light. Can’t lose him here. Save it for Avin. Get him out.

He felt a hand leave his. Saw Avin struggling to his feet through bleary eyes. Felt Death in his bones. Felt... Felt the end. Avin was dancing with the reaper. Buying time on the back of damnation. Praying it would give him the moments he needed. Zak prayed too, as the Thanatonaut brought the Void to bear. Watched a crowd of Hive be unmade… only for more to start filtering in from the walls themselves. Only for the doors to give way. Zak pushed himself to his knees. Grasped for that sensation in Avin’s Light. Forged a bowstring from their bond, a curve from his resolve, and an arrow from his desperation. It flew free, struck the ground between them.

The glorious sounds of dozens of Hive screaming in agony filled their ears.

As the last of his Light left him, and a crackling sensation filled his chest, Zak fell again, slowly crawling towards Avin with what strength he had left. Reaching for his Light. Saw the hilt between them. The strings of his web pulled and tugged at the oncoming slaughter… then shoved them away. Each pulse seeming to force them back, as the tethers formed an almost-cage...

It was over. This was their last reprieve.

The last five feet were agony. The tether faltered. The dome closed, just a fraction of its size. He reached for the fractured blade, for his Light. _: Avin... Together. :_ At least this way, the nest could come with them. They could do something with their last moments. And that crystalline monument to their defiance would stand as testament, as he held the sword hilt out to Avin... 

Only to realize he was holding a gun.


	28. Conflagration II - Sturm und Drang

His fingers shook. Trembled around the singed wood. Servos struggling to maintain impulses. Light forced its way through his neurocircuits, clarified intent. Grasp tightened. Gauntlet creaked with the grip as it rose to a steady position. Beneath his hand, the hilt fizzled dimly, the Void-burned broomhandle in his hand heavy. Loaded. A chance. More time. Hope.

Currency for tomorrow.

That spark sputtered, flickered within the Hunter. Built, Spread. Down his arm, into his hand. An Ogre loomed behind the Warlock. Their bond solidified, just for a moment. Sputtered. Surged. Light met Light, and bloomed.

Brilliant flames, purple and orange, filled the air as Zak fired the Golden Gun.

Without a head, the creature stumbled, fell backwards. Crushed a not-insignificant amount of creatures beneath its weight, as the dome failed. Hope bought them moments more. They could use it. They could stand.

And as they did, the sound of thunder filled the air.

Bolts lanced through the horde, corpses wrought into dust, welter and twisted about by current before disintegrating, or exploding into chunky viscera. To Zak, it didn’t matter. All he could see was the beautiful cerulean Arc surrounding them.

He didn’t even see the owner of the heavy, chitin-plated arm that wrapped around his shoulder and dragged him to his feet. Instinct pulled the fragmented hilt from the ground in limp fingers, as one more confident used the forced elevation as a platform, a vantage to remove the stragglers. He felt himself being lifted again. Realized it wasn’t him. Saw Avin stride ahead with the helping hand.

「Get up! Move, Hunter-Fool!」

 

 

He made it.

Zak very nearly slipped out of consciousness as Misraaks hefted his weight, supporting his staggering gait even as Avin forced himself ahead, clearing their path. Caela stood behind, the last of the sparks leaving her fingers as the Trance ended. Even then, her free hand swung the Thunderlord around, its weight hanging off its sling, and the sound of machine gun fire echoed forth, lancing forth with the wire rifles of half a dozen Vandals covering their escape. Pulled through the breach, Zak listened through foggy ears as Misraaks shouted back to his crew, ordering their retreat. They scrambled out, past them. Caela strode backwards, emptying her weapon before turning to run. They were going. Had to move.

The Exo forced his legs to cooperate, leaning on the Eliksni’s lower shoulder as he broke into a limping sprint. Saw Avin stagger as he did. Saw the angry wound in his side. Gheist tried to help his Hunter as he was called forth, but Zak just pointed to Avin, jamming the shattered hilt he used to do so back into his belt and pulling the burnt gun into his offhand. Two... no, three rounds left, by the weight. Hopefully enough. Misraaks’ attention turned back to Avin as Gheist tended to his wounds. Quickly. Messily. He could feel that dance dragging on. All Gheist had done was put Avin back in the leading position for a few moments. Hopefully enough to get them through.

Through... did anyone else see the door?

The group was sprinting for a gateway... one of many in the area. Gunked shut with Hive viscera. Recent. Still solidifying. But enough. The horde was on their heels, and focused back. Lining up the sights, Zak raised the ancient weapon. The chitin fragmented, and Avin’s attention turned ahead. Two rounds left. Another chip flew free of one of the thinnest areas. Misraaks’ attention was now ahead. One round, if luck held out. The trigger drew back, and the muzzle pitched. The final flakes... weren’t enough. It held, barely. Twenty feet until they were at a dead end. Would they have the time? Zak raised the gun again. Reached for that Solar Light that had bought them the moments they’d needed not two minutes prior. Pulled the trigger. The Light didn’t suffuse him as it had. There was no burst of Solar Light, no furious shot.

There was, however, one last round left in the chamber.

Snapping it at its weak point, the chitin gave way in just enough time, the group flooding through as a skiff swung low over a docking platform. The gun was lighter than Zak had ever felt it. He’d miscalculated. Or perhaps hope was just a very heavy coin.

The thought brought a smile to his face as the last of his consciousness abandoned him.

* * *

「Take them up! Quickly!」

Misraaks handed the unconscious Guardian up into the skiff, before grabbing the one stubbornly clinging to life, two Ghosts nestled in his collar.「When both of you are done being dead, I want you to punch him for being a fool.」With that oh-so-fond farewell, the Captain pushed Avin in too, herding his crew in close as the final Warlock brought up the rear guard. She’d finally run out of ammunition for her heavy weapon, but judging from the smaller gun she pulled from her hip, she was far from unarmed.「Storm-dancer!」She didn’t turn, just waved him off.「I’ve got this big guy, my ship’s already on the way, just get them the hell out of here.」He paused. Held, for just a moment. Until she winged a round off the shield of a Knight that had fallen from an upper level, interrupting its swing at the Captain.

「... Fly fast, Storm-dancer.」

The skiff was gone by the time the shield came down, and moments later a cheery voice blared from the loudspeakers of the ship descending through the roof some distance out. _[ / Line of fire clear, Caela? / ]_ Beneath the ship, an ancient, heavily modified GAU-8 gatling cannon began to spin, as Penny prepared to fire the engines. Disappearing into the transmat beam, Caela didn’t have to answer the question.

All she had to do was pull the trigger.

* * *

_「Fool... Hunter-Fool... Zak, **wake up.** 」_

Damp. He was damp. There was moisture on his faceplates. ... Falling on his faceplates. Droplets. Rain. It was raining.

Zak-9 cracked open his eye. His helm was gone, where he didn’t know. All he could see was an Eliksni, crouched over him... No, holding him. Misraaks. A shaky hand reached for the helmet. Was intercepted, pushed back.「Save your strength... Your Vanguard is on the way.」He blinked. Vanguard... Cayde. Cayde sent him... the mission... _The Arcology._

_**"Avin-!”** _

Before he could try and struggle free, Misraaks was already clinging tighter, holding him in place. He felt something strain, crack in his chest. Felt hastily-repaired systems strain, stretch, break anew. Watched the Captain’s other arms rise, the Warlock cradled gently in them. His helm was gone too. Rain ran down his face, washing blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were closed... but his chest rose and fell. A Ghost nestled in his collar, staring plaintively up at his Guardian. Leshya... But where was-

[ / I’d say now’s the time for you to say ‘I told you so’... but your fancy Vex machine failed to predict any of that. So I think I was still right. / ]

Gheist floated before his face, points seeming wilted. His Light was still waning. Raindrops dripped from the pyramid-like, orbiting pieces, the rust patches in the green finish having gotten worse. He’d have to ask Avin to help him with that again... later. “... Yeah. You were.”

“Guardian!”

He heard heavy bootsteps, a small army of them. Turned his head. Saw his helm on the ground nearby, and Deputy Commander Sloane at the head of a group of Titans. Titans on Titan... who else could possibly greet them? The thought brought a weak chuckle to Zak’s metal lips... until he saw the guns raised. Sloane kept hers down, but ready, but the rest... Zak quickly raised a hand. Realized somewhere in the mess, he’d lost a finger. Ring finger... He could do without it for now. “W-wait... He’s with us, friendly... Need..." His ventilation systems gave out, and sub-critical systems started to shut down even as Gheist worked to repair the damage. He wasn’t enough. The Hunter felt himself rising as Misraaks stood, felt them move closer.

“... Take them. Bring them safety.”

In general, he noted dryly to himself, Titans were much rougher with handling near-corpses than Eliksni. He heard Misraaks move back, making distance slowly, but with purpose. The Titans moved up, and breath hitched in the Exo's throat... until they slowly lowered their guns to grab the discarded helms on the plating. Even with guns down, the tension was thicker than the rain. But into it, Misraaks vanished in short order. Zak could hear the telltale signs of a hidden skiff jumping to orbit. It was the last thing he properly heard as his auditory systems shut down.

_: ... Zak... Zak, where... :_

He couldn’t see Avin stirring. Only feel it. Feel the confusion, the disorientation. The pain, the relief... could feel his own lack of feeling bouncing back through their link as their shared space tried to make sense of where it belonged.

_: ... Not in the Arcology anymore. :_

_: Good... Misraaks... told me to punch you once we were out. I’m gonna... gonna... :_

_: ... Maybe save that for later. :_

_: ... Yeah. Maybe. :_

The last thing he felt as he entered the Void again was the rain on his metal skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Well, we're about to the end of this arc. I legit can't thank you all enough for coming along with me on this joyride, it's been so surreal to actually have an audience for my scribblings. Next week is probably going to be the last chapter of this arc... and I may take a week or two off, things have gotten a touch hectic on the life side of things, albeit in what I'd consider a good way, and the break to focus on building this website would probably do me some good.
> 
> Before all that though, credit for the _amazing_ inline art goes to [HeraldicMage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraldicMage/pseuds/HeraldicMage), who keeps drawing stellar art of Our Good Boys™ for me to stare at while I write, on top of being an awesome beta reader and having wonderful characters for me to write with and be inspired by. None of this would've happened, at least not in the way it has, without their help.


	29. Variisis

Klaxons felt an almost distant sound, blaring from speakers so close, and sounding so far away. The hiss of seals locking up, as red light flashed in the pod. The shudder of the hull, the twisting of metal, and the flash of gunfire echoing through the halls beyond the glass of the pod window. He didn’t hear any of that. Just the distant blaring of the klaxon... that steady beeping. Nor did he see any of the chaos beyond.

All he saw were those blue eyes as his world shuddered violently, and broke them apart.

Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... 

Cracking his eye as the soft blip of a heartbeat monitor filled his ears, Zak-9 slowly sat up in his bed. His... hospital bed. Where was he? What... Oh right. The Arcology. He remembered it, so he supposed if there was a reset, it was done badly. The lensing in his eye finally cooperated with him and focused, bringing the soft blue hospital room into focus. Broad window. The destroyed Tower was visible in the distance. So... not a Vanguard facility. Outsourcing?

... Then again, Guardians tended to be able to take care of themselves when it came to healing.

Light was suffusing his form again, but even with the Traveler hovering overhead, there were dregs, vestiges of cloying Dark clinging to him, slowing the process. But he was functional again at least. Turning, he looked around, seeing who was in with him. The twist brought a threatening crackling sound. A quick glance down revealed the crystalline scar in his chest... it was fractured. Badly. He could feel shards plucking at critical systems.

_: Don’t... break that. You know I can’t fix it right now. :_

His attention turned again. A lump in the sheets in the next bed over stirred, and Avin’s head poked out from underneath. Just barely. Zak wanted to smile. But the fact that the Warlock was in here too only drove a metaphorical knife into his equally metaphorical heart. Slowly, the Awoken dragged himself out from under his covers too, and Zak blanched. The Voidscar was just as bad as ever... without their makeshift therapy, it had gotten angry and chaotic again. And then… his entire side was wrapped in bloodied bandages.

_: ... Nothing to say? You’re supposed to be the talkative one. :_

Letting a quiet chuckle escape, Zak slowly pulled his legs out of bed, put them down... And stopped. Servos stuck, jammed. Still down for the count. Not enough strength to stand. [ / Lie back down you idiot, I’m not done fixing you yet. / ] It wasn’t often that Gheist got properly short with him. But as the pointed little ball floated between the Guardians, “short” was at minimum what he was. Practically shoving on the Exo’s chest until he managed to settle back in, he only floated away as Leshya floated into view behind Avin, looking somewhat bleary. [ / They’re up then? / ]

[ / Yup. / ]  
[ / Okay Avin, you can punch him now- / ]  
_: Leshya! :_ [ / Leshya... / ]  
“No he’s... Only reason you shouldn’t is because you should be lying down too.”

“Yeah, no fuckin’ kiddin’.”

If he had the strength to start out of bed, Zak would’ve. As it was, Caela’s near silent intrusion was enough to get him hyperventilating in short order. Until a shard of crystal got stuck in his mechanical diaphragm at least. [ / Please don’t kill my Guardian right now, it’s taking a lot to keep him alive as it is. / ]

Rolling her eyes, Caela pushed the door open. “If that was enough to shock, you’ve got other visitors. Loud ones. So... shore up for that. _CAYDE, SHAXX! THEY’RE UP!”_ Giving the pair a little smirk, the Stormcaller hummed, “Docs were spot on about your recovery time... Gotta hand it to ‘em, they knew what they were talking about. Even if you still can’t move. I called in one of your favors, by the way. Hope you don’t mind.” Chuckling at Zak’s confused look, even as the footsteps from the hall grew closer, Caela pushed off the wall and headed out, passing Cayde and Shaxx on the way with a well timed blink. “You’ll see what I mean in a minute.”

Glancing back at Caela as she dodged them, Cayde raised an eyebrow, before he turned back to the pair, resting his hands on his hips as he neared the beds. Shaxx, for his part, simply crossed his arms and stood where Caela had been by the door. Silently. Not a great sign for Shaxx. “... Thought you said you were going alone, kid.” Responding with a gentle shrug, Zak mumbled, “As if I could keep him back once he knew.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Avin nod. And Leshya squeeze his shell towards the front. “... Well. Doesn’t matter. You’re back now. How’re you doing?” A low snort came in response. “How’re we... well. I’m still trying to figure out what _does_ work, and I can confirm my legs do not. And Avin’s got some new scars, if they ever properly heal. So... all in all, pretty well.” Nodding, Cayde let his head fall for a moment, eventually letting out a long, low sigh.

“... My intel was bad. Should’ve trusted you.”

[ / Yeah, you think? / ]

Every head in the room snapped to Gheist as he hovered behind Zak’s shoulder. [ / I know he’s not been in the best state recently, but what reason did you _have_ for doubting him here? Why would he lie about it? What reason could there possibly b- / ]

“Gheist, please.”

A metal hand found itself on the points of his shell. “Not the time or place. Us being in here is point enough.” It took the Ghost a solid half minute to finally back down, floating over to nestle in some of the blankets at the foot of Zak’s bed. “... Yeah. So... I do owe you one, after all that. But... the intel on the stash was good at least. Wasn’t for nothing. And if Zavala tries to grab you two for missions, and you need a pass... Just say you’re helping lock down some assets with Paladin Oran. Should keep him off your back for a while. Just don’t _over_ use it... Eventually he’ll _have_ to play nice enough to ask Petra about what you’re doing.” He awkwardly held his arms out at his sides for a moment, before he backed up. “... Guess that’s all. Gotta get back before they miss me, but uh... snuck you in a present.”

Cayde had to duck as he left the room, something shimmering in the air around him for a moment. Zak thought he recognized the shape, but his eye wasn’t quite cooperating to the degree he’d have liked... 

Still, it’d have been hard to miss Misraaks closing the door as his active camo shimmered and died.

Before he could even think about trying to force his legs into working, Misraaks closed the distance between them and gently pushed the Exo back into his bed, crouching between the pair as Shaxx looked on, his face as unreadable as ever behind his helmet. “So, this was your mystery liaison out in the Arcology, Hunter?” Nodding once, Zak fixed his eye on the Eliksni’s, watching them slowly close, barely opening again. Relief... they looked like, spoke of, relief. “I have been said... to not drag on about you being a fool, Hunter-Fool... to play nice.” Zak let the minor mistranslation slide this time - it was hardly the moment for worrying about such nonsense. Instead he gently raised a hand, the new finger in place still bare, untreated metal, a dim silver among the black and dark green. Rested it on one of the Captain’s secondaries, only for it to be gently gripped and pulled up by the corresponding primary. “... but you are still Hunter-Fool, and I will not let you forget that.”

Letting a weak smile pull at his plating, Zak-9 murmured, “I don’t think I’d have it any other way..." before turning his attention to Avin. There was... something there. “... Misraaks, could you...?” Nodding, the Eliksni gently picked him up, careful to keep him mostly in position as he relocated him. He couldn’t settle him on the bed, not without pushing Avin out, but Misraaks had a steady hand. Probably the only reason Shaxx was still standing back. Gently reaching out, hesitating for just a moment as Leshya’s eye bored a hole in him, Zak rested his hand on the Awoken’s cheek. _: ... You saved my life... :_ Something in him said _’again.’_ He didn’t have to push it aside - it was gone before he could remember it. _: I don’t... know what I’d have done without you, my Light. :_ The tinge to the Warlock’s cheek was palpable, warming the tips of his fingers as he nuzzled into his touch. _: ... Don’t think this is gonna get you out of getting punched for being an idiot. Cuz it’s... not. :_ Chuckling softly, Zak slowly ran his fingers along Avin’s jaw, nodding in response... but before he could offer further words, the sound of Shaxx clearing his throat echoed through the room. “I apologize, but I don’t have time to spectate this, and there was something of some importance I needed of you both.”

He was... well, quiet was a poor word for Lord Shaxx. But quiet _for_ Lord Shaxx. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you two. Your bond before the Incident in Midtown was as iron - Resolute... Unyielding. Since that time, both of you have been… shaken. Ignobly so. And I cannot help but feel that all of this... May not have ended so poorly had you the strength to tell each other frankly what the other needed to hear.” Continuing, Shaxx’s gaze almost palpably fell upon Avin as he intoned, “Even if one of you was never very keen on my Crucible... you are both Guardians of the City. So, as far as I’m concerned, your wellbeing still falls to me. You,” he pointed, finger directed at the cradled Exo, “Will be needed to train the next generation, and the generation after, and protect them all. So if I were to let you die before then, I would be failing in my duties to the Crucible. And you,” the finger roamed, pointing to the bedridden Awoken, “Are among the City’s braver Scholars. When I have seen you fight... You remind me of Ikora. A smaller... far more timid Ikora.” A pause. “... Perhaps she is the wrong figure to bring to mind. But when you decide to bring your ferocity to bear, you are truly a force to be reckoned with, and you will make great strides for this City one day. So were you to die, I would be failing in my duties to this City.” The finger almost instinctively roamed to point to Misraaks, before he pulled it back. “... You, well... I’d rather see you live for everyone’s sakes. And I still must thank you for telling me what he saw in that construct.” Ah. So Shaxx knew.

“The moment you began having these visions, you should have coordinated with the Vanguard, Hunter. Discussed what you had found. Thanks to Ezekiel and Ikora, we have... turned a corner, as a Consensus, about what has happened with regards to Osiris. You would have at least been heard. So... perhaps, in future, you could learn to be less alone. And I think I have the perfect means to teach you.” Glancing between themselves, the trio slowly turned their gaze back to Shaxx as he produced a small book. The symbol of Crimson Days was emblazoned on the hard cover. “When two Guardians are bonded beyond what simple words and actions can profess... it is tradition for them to exchange vows. I have selected some for you. If you would accept them.” Another pause. “... I would gently urge you to accept them. You both seem so eager to move on from your past... and yet you cling to it so dearly. You, too, must now turn a corner if you wish to heal.” There was a soft sound of shifting cloth as the Captain, still thus far, nodded slowly. “He speaks truths... Both have seen it. Many more, we suspect.”

Turning his eye down as he sank into thought, Zak’s hand almost fell away from Avin’s cheek... until one of Misraaks’ hands gently braced up behind it, holding it in place. His gaze returned to his Light. Saw, felt, the turbulent emotions behind those eyes. Felt the soft nod into his palm, and turned his gaze to his Captain... then back to Lord Shaxx. “... I hope that book leaves room for us to make our own vows.” Shifting slowly in the Eliksni’s arms as Shaxx nodded, Zak turned to face Avin again, his hand coming to curl around the Warlock’s gently. Synthetic eye scanned over biological, reading his face. The faint feeling of emotions, weakly intermingling across their almost-depleted Lightbond, asked his question, and provided his answer. Their fingers slowly pressed further into one another. “... As long as I have lives to give, I vow to give them to you. I would grant you my actions, my trust, my thoughts... In joy, and in sorrow. My heart is yours... Everything I have... I would give freely to you. I would be happy to see you joyous - woeful to see you mourn. If you would accept it.”

Zak didn’t need to hear Avin’s answer to feel it, but he still listened with rapturous attention as he murmured, “For every life I have to give... I will share it all with you. My words, my actions... my thoughts and trust. In joy, and in sorrow. Until we return to the Light… I will share with you. My heart is yours.” Neither of them could place who leaned in first, or that they had really moved at all. All they could place were their lips against the other’s, holding for a few moments in that quiet repose, and failing to part even after, their foreheads coming to rest on one another’s as their gaze locked on the other’s. Until, at least, Shaxx knelt before them, clearing his throat softly and murmuring himself, “That... was beautiful. A fitting vow for the both of you... But you were supposed to wait for me to give you the book to put your hand on.”

Glancing from Shaxx, to the book, to each other, Zak and Avin both burst out laughing, quietly at first, but soon it grew, Misraaks soon joining in, and eventually, even the solemn-seeming Titan let his mirth bubble over into a soft chuckle. “It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. The book is all about the ceremony... I have a feeling you two don’t really have the time for that now. So I’ll leave you to your recovery... and I expect to see you back in the Crucible once you’re well, Hunter. I have plans I think you’ll appreciate in the works..."

Nodding slowly, Zak squeezed Avin’s hand again... before letting it go, and murmuring, “I’d like you to witness one more. If... it’s amenable to you.” Halfway through standing, Shaxx paused, and the Exo could almost see the realization slowly knitting itself into his expression through the blank face of his helmet. “... Of course, Hunter.” Bowing his head briefly in thanks, Zak slowly turned his head to Misraaks, reaching out with his other hand, and wrapping it around one of the Eliksni’s primaries, even as he gave him a somewhat quizzical look. “I know I’m supposed to offer you some sort of weapon for courtship first, but... that may have to wait until I can find one worthy of you.” Clearing his throat, as those chitin-covered fingers curled back around his own, Zak thought carefully on what was to come next. Fluent or not... he wanted to choose the right words.

「In you, I place my trust, my confidence, and my heart. All I have is, too, yours, with pride. I would call you my Captain until the end of our days... and I would share our lives, if you would take of mine.」At first, Misraaks did not answer. Slowly, his breathing shifted the both of them, as he stared down at the Exo through slightly lidded eyes. But in time, he brought his last free hand up to gently remove the lower half of his helmet, the respirator hissing softly as it was pulled free, even as the Eliksni leaned down to mimic the gesture Zak had just shared with his Awoken lover. And as he slowly pulled away, only one of his inner eyes was open, and even then, just barely, the warmth behind his gaze still all too evident to the Exo.「In you, I place my pride, my confidence, and my hearts. Through bountiful times, through lean scrapings, I would keep you close, and see you well when all was done. I will share with you my lifesblood, in the air we breathe, and should a sword come to seek you... I will help you push it back.」Over the sound of his mind racing, the Awoken and the Eliksni around him breathing, and his own straining mechanisms, he dimly heard Shaxx’s Ghost translating for him, watching the Titan nod once as they finished, and smiling softly as he let his eye slip closed.

“Well, I can’t say I caught all of that... but what I did spoke volumes. I cannot speak as well for you, all things considered, but from what little I know myself of you, Captain, I trust that you will take good care of my Hunter.” A slow nod from Misraaks seemed to satisfy Shaxx. “That’s settled then. We should go soon. I’ll require that Warlock’s help to get you out of here safely..." A fact he did not sound happy about. “So... it’s best we leave while we can account for her.” Nodding again, Misraaks slowly, tenderly, replaced Zak in his bed, standing to his full height and bowing to the both of them. “Just one thing, please.” From under his own cloak, Misraaks withdrew a bundle of fabric, slowly unrolling it to present it to the Hunter. The cloak... _their_ cloak. The damage from the Arcology, mended, replaced with fresh scraps of banner-cloth in vibrant Dusk colors, and the symbol refreshed with the luminous dye used for banners of import. Zak found himself rather at a loss for words, which made it rather fortunate that Misraaks seemed to have something he wanted to say. 

Resting the cloak on his bedside table, the Captain slowly ran his hand along the Hunter’s shoulder, before murmuring,「... Whatever vows we make... you will still be my Hunter-Fool, Zak-9.」 Laughing softly, the Exo shot back, “Call me what you want... just so long as you call me yours,” as the unlikely pair strode out of the room, Zak’s eye lingered until the moment the Eliksni shimmered out of view, before turning back to Avin, the Awoken seeming... tired, above all else.

_: ... You look like you could sleep for a few thousand years. :_

_: Yeah. :_

_: Well... I think we’ve both had our chance for that, before these two found us... maybe shoot for a few hours instead. :_

_: Don’t tell me how to live my life... we’re sharing it, doesn’t mean you have a controlling interest :_

The half-hearted, half-wry mental jab got a soft chuckle out of the Exo, even as he felt weariness beginning to weigh him down..

_: ... Hypocrite. :_

_: ... Yeah. Yeah, I am a bit. :_

The soft chuckle that escaped the Awoken was the last thing Zak heard as he drifted back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... later than I'd have liked, but technically within my weekend window. And with this one... we have probably hit the stopping point, just for now, of me updating this weekly. Life has gotten... stupendously hectic, and I need a bit of time to decide how to start the next arc. The big plot points are all done out, for the most part, but... there's not necessarily a good place to just jump back in yet, in my head. So... I'm gonna spend some time clearing my plate and search around for the push that I need to get this started on its next legs. It's been a hell of a ride thus far just... seeing people actually _reading my writing_ , let alone actually getting to chat with some of you. I couldn't be more thankful for y'all's support as this has gone on, and I _will_ be returning to this as soon as I'm able, I'd never put this story down now, it's not anywhere near done... so I'm gonna be returning before too long.
> 
> Trust.
> 
> EDIT: Also, brief aside, cuz it's bugging me that I couldn't address it properly here without mucking up the flow more than I was willing to - I figure the hearts thing probably _isn't_ part of Eliksni parlance... it'll be addressed later, "soon" later as far as story timeline, but for now, I'm gonna leave it be so the gays can do their thing.


	30. Dead Man Dreaming

Soft rustling noises filled Zak’s ears as his eye opened. Sitting up from his resting place, finding himself surrounded by golden millet grass, the Exo knew, on some level, that this was familiar. That he should just lie back down, and ignore that tower... 

Pushing himself shakily to his feet, unsteady servos struggling to cooperate, the Hunter began the trek on instinctual drive alone. Clawed feet digging into the earth as the rustling grew louder in his ears, blustering plant life driven further and further towards the earth by a wind he could not feel. The tower seemed closer today. Or perhaps he had just lost track, already, of how long he had wandered. And hadn’t he been stopped by now, normally? Some nightmarish apparition? Why couldn’t he remember what was missing?

 

Shake of the head. Clear mind. You’re so close now, o murderer mine.

The steps seemed so distant, even as he put his foot on the first of them. Steel on mineral-metal amalgam clacked softly, echoed over the field as he shifted his weight up, took the next step. Froze. Felt the shadow cross over him more than saw it.

Not that he didn’t see it.

Rumbling, billowing heated air rushed past him, as his silhouette was painted on the staircase in ghastly green-yellow light. The door was so far away... But was it even safe in there? Was the light the better thing to turn to here? Soon, he knew, he would not have a choice. One would be made for him.

Talons scraped at the next step.

Bellowing, shrieking howls rent the air as Zak-9 broke into a sprint. He felt the heat grow, felt it engulf him... and then felt nothing as he fell past the threshhold of the Deep Stone Crypt.

His eyes opened slowly. The room was bright. Clinically so. Spotlights shone on him from every direction, the only other thing in the room he could see an adjacent table. He thought he saw something green, but his view was interrupted by a silhouette, crossing between them. Had it always been this hard to breathe? The injury had healed by now... as much as a Knight’s sword could.

“Just hold on, Zach. It’s almost ready.”

A retch. He hadn’t retched in... he couldn’t remember the sensation, but he knew what it was, as he clapped a hand to his face. Pulling it back, he saw red... Blood. He was bleeding. ... Was that his hand? His chassis wasn’t flesh-toned...

“Felix... If this doesn’t...”

Who was Felix? Was that _his_ voice?

“Not now, don’t you fucking dare. You’re going to be fine. I’m not letting you die here.”

He wanted so desperately to see the face behind that voice. It was so... familiar. But he couldn’t remember why. Another retching cough wracked his body, blood splattering onto the white sheets covering his torso. His vision faded, and with it, his consciousness. The last thing he heard was that same, confusing voice... _his_ voice, but not his own.

“Just don’t... stay behind.

“Not for me.”

He was falling. Cold, thick air rushed past him like smoke... like water. It was never the same feeling from one moment to the next. Not until the ripples overtook him. And then he was clutching a stasis pod, black metal fingers curled around the rim as gravity waves rattled his form like a wind chime. Feedback sensors went haywire, and entire moments disappeared in flashes of static. Through them, the only thing that carried his purpose were those commands.

_SAVE_HIM_

Between waves, he struggled to regain his footing. To stare through the glass. He could feel it coming. Whatever... “it” was. “It” had come for the Traveler... and they were in Its way. But before he let anything happen to this cryopod... It would have to get through _him,_ first.

As the ship plunged into darkness, the last thing he caught a glimpse of was that becalmed face, just out of reach of the metal fingers on the glass.

Lancing pain shot through his side as the electrified wire tore through his plating, a shot from the ancient revolver returning the favor, even as he felt the Awoken grip his body around the torso. Somehow, he was keeping him up. Hefting him towards the escape pods. But he could hear the skittering getting closer.

“Veyles... Leave me. Please... I can cover you.”  
“Not a snowball’s chance. Come on, Zak, just a few more steps.”

That voice... once again, as familiar as it was foreign. But he would know those eyes anywhere. Staggering closer, he could see that only one of the pods actually remained. Just one seat within.

“... I love you, Zak.”  
“Wait-”

He tried to stop, but with a surge of strength the Exo hadn’t known he had, the Awoken pushed him towards the door, slamming the button on a nearby console in the process two times. The door hissed open before him, and shut behind. The ragged scream that escaped his chassis was the shriek of a wounded alien, crying out for help. It was the only noise that he could make. He just didn’t know why. His body lurched towards the door, only to find the panel locked out. On the other side of two layers of clear plasteel, he could see those two beautifully blue eyes, and even as he slammed his hand impotently against the door, he could make out the words on his lips. And see the quartets of blue eyes in the darkness beyond.

_Be well._

The next thing he knew, he was hurtling away from the hull of the ship, slammed into one side of the pod by the sudden acceleration. No. No this was all so wrong. How could he have done that? How could he have thrown his own life away... for a wounded robot?

> _SAVE_HIM_  
>...  
>...  
> _DIRECTIVE_FAILURE_

Sickly yellow light bathed his form in its glow once again as he jerked to a halt, the escape pod’s interior all at once wiped away by darkness and the cloying luminance of the visage before him, spreading like thorny petals around a vile, glowing center. Revulsion gripped his core, even as resignation settled into his limbs.

_\\\ Drift, worm... drift like the Dreg you are. //_

Cold. He was cold. His limbs wouldn’t move... as his eye turned to them, the reason became clear. Straining with all his might, he couldn’t snap the coating of thick ice that had him bound.

Even as the world collapsed around him.

_**”ZAK!!”** _

Upright. He was upright. Chest heaving. Breathing, still had that going for him. There was something on his chest. Why wasn’t his eye working? Was it open? 

... No.

Cool against the void-filled scar, Avin’s hand gripped at him, those piercing blue eyes glowing dimly up at him as the Warlock seemed to plead with his eyes as much as his words.

“... What happened, Zak?”

Yellow... there had been... yellow. The... the crypt?

As the last bits of the memories slipped out of his fingers, Zak let his Light push him back to the bed, eye flitting to the Awoken’s bandages. Darkening.

“... You overdid it again, Avin...”  
“I had a good reason for once... are you alright?”

Ragged, the sigh wrenched itself free of his throat, a rush of ventilated air registering as far too warm on his sensors.

“... Think so. Just a bad dream.”

Slowly, Avin laid back down, settling at his side. Keeping that hand where it was, lying atop his chest. Zak felt its weight rise and fall with his plating as his eye pulled around their apartment. The hospital hadn’t been a great place for sleep... but now it seemed like the dreams had followed him here, too. Back home. Still...

They were just dreams...

Right?

The hope was the only thing that let the Warlock’s presence at his side drag him back off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less back than I initially thought... but I've been sitting on this for a bit hoping I could get more together, and it's not coming as fast as I'd like, so I'm gonna get this out there while I work on it.


	31. Galliard +1

Turning the armor over in his hands, inspecting where there’d been damage, Zak nodded slowly, starting to slip it on over his head. “Good as new... I’ve still got no idea how you can manage to do that so well, Avin.” Smiling softly, the Warlock shrugged. “It’s nothing much... just a little time and thread.” It wasn’t, and they both knew it. But Zak knew words wouldn’t sway the Warlock any more than the fact that he was still on the mend would keep him still. So instead of words, he stood up, moving to where he sat and pressing his forehead to his Light’s gently. “Thank you... and please, for Traveler’s sake, get some rest. If your stitches hold til the end of the day, Gheist and Leshya should be able to get you on your feet enough to head out to the Shard later.” Hopefully the prospect of some company while he did research was enough to keep him in bed for the day. 

Slipping into his gauntlets, and throwing on his mended cloak, the Hunter slid the old fashioned revolver into its holster, holding out a hand for Gheist as he extricated himself from the blanket nest Avin had made for him and Leshya. “Hopefully this won’t take too long... Shaxx wanted to see Artifex as well, so I imagine whatever’s going on...”

Chuckling softly, Avin gave him a faux-judging stare.

“And you’re getting on _me_ for not staying still?”

“Yes. Because _I_ can be welded back together, _you_ have to wait on all those pesky biological processes to do their knitting. And you know how they like to take their time.” Smiling at the resigned sigh from across the room, he added, “I’ll see about grabbing some ramen on the way back,” even as he made his way out of the apartment.

* * *

“You’re... doing what?”

Standing before the Crucible’s handler, the pair of Exo shared similarly dumbfounded expressions... albeit with slightly different tones between them. “Are your ears shut off, Hunter? I said, I’m pairing you two up for the upcoming seeding matches.” Blinking a few times, Zak shook his head, about to retort when Artifex spoke up. “Look, he’s an idiot, but I don’t think he’s wrong for being confused on this one. If you’re going to be ranking us... why put us anywhere near each other on a roster?”

Shaking his head, Shaxx met the question with an overdramatic sigh. “Because the only thing worse than watching you effortlessly immolate rookies, Hunter, is watching you two fighting to a dead draw. And I know, without a doubt, you will find some way to ruin all of this if I don’t pair you up. So. Until further notice, you’re both on a team. I suggest you get used to that.”

Glancing at Artifex somewhat incredulously, when Zak’s attention turned back to Shaxx, the Titan already seemed to be expecting the question that was coming. He didn’t say anything, but there was that subtle shift in his posture. He’d gotten through to them in one sense... and he was waiting to make his next point until Zak made his. The Exo hated that he knew this song and dance by now.

Still, he humored him.

“You do realize I’m still not fully healed from the Arcology, right? Gheist’s tapped just helping Leshya fix up Avin’s injuries, only reason I’m walking right now is I can order a spare arm from Kadi.” Nodding, Shaxx moved closer, thumping him on the shoulder hard enough to shift his plating, even through his armor. “I’m well aware of your condition, Hunter. That’s another reason I’m telling you now. You’re officially on the clock.” Holding up a pair of fingers, Shaxx continued, rather boisterously, with, “Two weeks. Then I expect to see you suited up and ready to fight, Guardian. Is that clear?”

Zak’s turn to sigh overdramatically. He could feel Artifex giving him a sideyed glare for the gesture, but if Shaxx got to have his fun with this conversation, by the Traveler he was gonna take his chances to gripe where he could get them.

“If you call that advance notice... Fine.”

He’d have to sit out of any fieldwork for the duration if he wanted to have his Light back up to snuff by then... small price to pay.

“If that’s everything, I’ll be going.”

As the former Iron Lord turned on his heel, Zak watched him go, catching him glancing back over his shoulder. “Try not to get yourself stuck in any more Hive ambushes between then and now, kid.” The thought of leaving the City at all, at this rate, brought an almost anguished amusement to Zak’s mind, his thoughts roaming starward. At this rate, he’d have to sneak Mithrax into the walls again if he wanted to see him. “I’ll do my best. No promises.”

* * *

「Your dwellings are all so small.」

Smuggling Mithrax into the city had been easier than he’d anticipated. While the City’s airspace had gotten no less restricted after the Red War, there had been a great deal more vacant areas along the outer walls in which it was rather easier to sneak a jumpship in to drop off a transmat, far from the Tower. And, coincidentally, only a few miles from their apartment. Coupled with the judicious use of active camouflage...

“Eia, I know..." Helping Mithrax duck quickly under the doorframe, Zak checked the takeout containers, making sure he still had all three ( _[ / You know you don’t have to quintuple check at this point, right? / ]_ ), before ducking inside himself.

“You’re laaate,” came the tired groan from the next room over, the Exo chuckling as he kicked the door shut behind himself. “I had to make an extra trip, dear... Oh hello there.” Feeling a gentle pressure at his shins, he looked down to see Cat, nuzzling into his leg, before she bounded off. Zak assumed, at first, she was simply returning to Avin’s bed, but he quickly saw her make a detour, sniffing curiously at the shimmering spot in the air that was the Eliksni Captain. As his camo dropped, Mithrax stared curiously down at the feline, before crouching slowly, and offering one of his secondaries. After a few tentative sniffs, Cat gave a few gentle licks - her symbol of highest approval - before headbutting his shin and scampering back towards the bedroom.

「... She likes you.」  
「Oh, good... it feels like that’s probably important.」  
「It is... Cat is _very_ key to who we’re allowed to bring home,」Zak teased, gently nudging Mithrax’s side and guiding him towards the living room. Setting out the ramen, he felt a querying nudge in his head, smiling a little to himself even as he responded, _: I brought us some company. You gotten any resting done, or do I need to save your ramen for later? :_ There was no bite to his teasing, even as he moved through the door to see Avin upright... though at least he was still settled in the bed proper, petting a purring bundle of fluff that had been investigating their guest moments prior. _: Too much resting... though I’ve had good company. :_ Gheist shimmered into view next to Zak’s head as he leaned on the doorframe, Leshya drowsily rising from his own resting place for the moment, both Ghosts hovering on either side of the Warlock and glowing for a moment as they worked their magic. Just enough Light to finally heal the worst of the wounds... The fatigue would likely remain for a few more days, but the stitching would no longer be a problem.

Helping Avin to his feet, Zak nuzzled his Light gently, before wrapping an arm under his shoulders and helping him shuffle to the couch. He felt the surprise flowing across their bond before he saw the look on Avin’s face, or had to stop to keep from physically dragging him along. Chuckling softly, Zak patted his side lightly, rumbling, “C’mon love, don’t look so surprised.” Helping him settle in, Zak took up a spot between him and Mithrax, who’d settled almost awkwardly on the edge of the couch. Patting the empty space between them, Zak let out an approving hum when Mithrax shifted to a more comfortable placement, leaning back and handing both of them a carryout container. “Eat up, you two. You need the strength, and _you_ haven’t had this before have you?” Gesturing in turn to Avin, then Mithrax, he smiled as the Eliksni shook his head slowly, reaching up to help him undo the seals on his helmet. In spite of almost everything, it was a rare and welcome sight to see Mithrax with his mask off.

The meal itself passed largely in silence, though as it went on, Zak felt the weight on both sides increasing slightly, smiling just a touch more to himself each time he noticed one of the two leaning on him just that little bit more. Setting his own plate down last, Mithrax having made impressively short work of his, with Avin not far behind, the Hunter sighed, leaning back into the couch a touch more and closing his eye. He didn’t know how much he’d missed moments this... domestic, until he had one again.

「Solarian food... is peculiar,」came the quiet musing from his left, though from the sounds of things, peculiar in this instance certainly didn’t mean “bad.” Nodding softly and glancing up to the Captain, the Exo responded,「It’s had a while to get... quirky. Before the Collapse we had a lot of cultures that came up with all sorts of neat things, food or otherwise. So I am told. It’s hard to know firsthand.」Nodding slowly, Mithrax rested his head on the Exo’s, even as he rumbled,「Houses were much the same, once.」

Sometimes, it was sobering to remember that Eliksni and Solarians weren’t all that different in some respects.

The thought was pushed aside by Avin nuzzling sleepily into his side. Pulling the Awoken closer as well, Zak ‘listened’ to the quiet burst of sleepy contentment trickling through their bond, responding with a smooth hum of languid happiness of his own. It was hard to think of how far away this scenario would’ve been even two months prior. How he’d been without this comfort for so long.

And in that moment, all he wished for was that it would last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for waiting so long... another one. Next chapter will have to be two as well, for Reasons™ so here's hoping I can get off my butt and get to work on those soon.


End file.
